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PULPIT  AND  GRAVE: 


A  VOLUME   OF 


FUNERAL  SERMONS  AND  ADDRESSES, 


LEADING  PULPITS   OF  AMERICA,    ENGLAND, 
GERMANY,  AND  FRANCE. 


CONTAINING     90     SERMONS,    SKETCHES     OF     SERMONS,    AND     OBITUARY 

ADDRESSES  ;  ALSO,  450  CLASSIFIED  TEXTS,  SCRIPTURE   READINGS, 

DEATH-BED    TESTIMONIES,    POINTS  ON   FUNERAL 

ETIQUETTE,    ETC.,   ETC. 


EDITED   BY 

E.   j/wHEELER,  A.M 


NEW   YORK : 

FUNK   &   WAGNALLS,    Publishers, 

10  and  12  Dey  Street. 

1884. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1884, 

By  FUNK  &  WAGNALLS, 

in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


: 


PREFACE. 

In  no  department  of  his  work  is  the  minister  of  the  Gospel 
called  upon  to  perform  duties  more  onerous,  to  meet  claims  more 
exacting,  than  in  the  conducting  of  funeral  services.  The  de- 
mands upon  the  time  of  a  popular  pastor  in  a  large  community 
are  enormous,  while  the  preacher  in  rural  districts,  who  is  called 
upon  to  traverse  miles  of  muddy  road  in  the  most  inclement 
weather,  rarely  fares  better  and  often  fares  worse.  Yet  still  more 
taxing  is  the  drain  upon  the  vital  energies  of  a  sympathetic  pastor, 
who,  both  as  man  and  as  minister,  weeps  with  those  that  weep, 
and  is  filled  with  solicitude  that  they  mourn  not  as  those  who  have 
no  hope.  In  addition  to  this,  if  his  heart  has  bled  over  its  own 
personal  losses,  how  are  the  wounds  opened  afresh  as  he  is  sum- 
moned again  and  again  to  the  house  of  mourning  and  to  the  side 
of  the  open  grave  ! 

Moreover,  the  responsibilities  of  his  position  are  at  such  a  time 
so  awful  that  no  minister  who  appreciates  them  can  feel  other  than 
a  sense  of  insufficiency,  and  an  instinctive  shrinking  which  no 
length  of  experience  can  entirely  remove.  Life  is  full  of  crises, 
but  what  one  is  fraught  with  more  consequence  than  that  which 
overtakes  the  parent  at  the  grave  of  a  loved  child,  the  child  at  the 
grave  of  a  parent  ?  None  pass  through  it  without  change  ;  no 
change  carries  with  it  vaster  issues  for  weal  or  woe.     Upon  the 


iv  PREFACE. 

preacher,  often  to  an  extent  terrible  to  contemplate,  depends  the 
outcome.  One  earnest  word  from  him  at  such  a  time  may  mean 
a  useful  life  saved  to  God  and  to  the  world  ;  one  opportunity 
slighted  may  cost  a  life  lost  to  all  eternity. 

Upon  young  ministers  these  dutie^  and  responsibilities  rest  at 
times  with  an  almost  crushing  weight.  Upon  none  should  they 
rest  lightly.  If  by  this  volume  they  may  be  guided  in  the  per- 
formance of  the  one,  and  better  prepared  for  the  bearing  of  the 
other,  its  purpose  is  accomplished,  and  an  apology  for  its  existence 
is  needless.  In  the  effort  to  compass  this,  resort  has  been  had  to 
a  wide  variety  of  the  richest  sermonic  literature,  from  which  the 
compiler  has  gleaned  with  a  view  to  satisfying  the  practical  needs 
of  the  preacher  rather  than  to  furnishing  mere  specimens  of 
eloquence.  Many  of  the  sermons  given  have  never  before  been 
published,  having  been  supplied,  upon  request,  by  their  authors, 
to  whom  hearty  thanks  are  hereby  tendered.  It  is  fitting  also  to 
express  my  obligations  to  Dr.  J.  M.  Sherwood  for  the  rare  judg- 
ment with  which  he  has  aided  both  in  the  selection  and  arrange- 
ment of  material. 

Upon  the  list  of  classified  texts  much  care  and  labor  have  been 
expended  to  render  it  a  valuable  aid  to  the  preacher  in  the  saving 
of  time.  Many  clergymen  have  adopted  the  custom  of  omitting 
the  text  altogether  and  delivering  what  are  known  as  obituary 
addresses.  The  custom  has  its  advantages,  but  it  has  not  yet 
obtained  such  favor  either  among  clergymen  or  people  as  greatly 
to  impair  the  usefulness  of  a  list  of  texts  arranged  for  ready 
reference. 

In  conclusion,  while  the  object  sought  has  been  chiefly  the 
assistance  of  pastors  in  their  ministrations  among  the  dying  and 
the  bereaved,  it  is  believed  that  no  volume  but  the  Book  of  books 
will  be  found  fuller  of  consolation  for  the  mourning.  There  are 
here  gathered  thoughts  from  many  minds,  lessons  from  many 
experiences,   promptings  from  many  hearts  ;  but  they  all  teach 


PREFACE. 


the  one  lesson  of  hope,  trust,  submission  to  an  all-loving  Father. 
The  reader  will  be  led  by  many  paths,  but  he  will  find  them  all 
converging  to  the  same  point — the  Cross  of  Christ. 


E.  J.   W. 


CONTENTS. 


INDEX  OF  AUTHORS  AND  CONTRIBUTORS xi 

SERMONS. 

SUBJECT.  NAME.  PAGE 

The  Fall  of  Hamilton Eliphalet  Nott,  D.D.,  LL.D 13 

Consolation  in  Christ Christian  E.  Luthardt,  D.D 31 

Christ  the  Destroyer  of  Death Rev.  C.  H.  Spurgeon. 37 

Confessions  of  Dying  Men Joel  Hawes,  D.D 52 

A  Mother's  Death Rev.  Albert  Barnes   66 

An  Overcoming  Faith Richard  Fuller,  D.D 79 

The  National  Bereavement Rev.  Henry  Ward  Beecher 94 

Sorrow  for  Death  of  Friends I.  S.  Spencer,   D.D 102 

The   Purpose   of    Divine    Chastise- 
ments  Arthur  T.  Pierson,  D.D 113 

God's  Voice  to  the  Nation Tryon  Edwards,  D.D 123 

The  Funeral  of  the  Soul H.  B.  Hooker,  D.D 133 


OBITUARY   ADDRESSES. 

Responsibilities  of  the  Living C.  F.  Deems,  D.D 141 

Life's  Review Theodor  Christlieb,  D.D 147 

Death  of  an  Only  Daughter William  M.  Taylor,   D.D 153 

A  Mother's  Removal John  Hall,  D.D 158 

Living  After  Death J.  M.  Sherwood,  D.D 161 

A  Time  to  Die Anonymous 164 

The  Master' s  Shepherd  Dog Justin  D.  Fulton,  D.D 167 

Infidelity  and  the  Grave Robert  G.  Ingersoll 170 

Funeral  Oration   for   the  Prince  of 

Conde  (peroration) James  Benigne  Bossuet 172 

Funeral  Oration  on  Louis  the  Great 

(peroration) Jean  Baptiste  Massillon 174 


CONTENTS. 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED. 

SUBJECT.  NAME.  PAGE 

Sorrow  for  the  Death  of  Friends Rev.  James  Saurin 176 

Victory  over  Death Rev.  Frederick  W.  Robertson..   181 

The  Christian's  Final  Triumph George  W.  Bethune,  D.D 186 

Character  and  Death  of  Washington 

Irving John  A.  Todd,  D.D 190 

The  Speed  of  Life  Impressing  Pro- 
bation   Tryon  Edwards,  D.D 194 

The  Darkness  of  Providence B.  M.  Palmer,  D.D 198 

Thoughts  on  Immortality Rt.  Rev.  Samuel  Fallows,  D.D..   202 

Lessons  from  Life's  Brevity W.W.Ramsay,   D.D 207 

Transition  to  the  Life  Beyond Lyman  Abbott,  D.D 211 

The  Christian's  Gain  by  Death Rev.  Zephaniah  Meek 215 

Preparing  for  Death William  Ives  Budington,  D.D. . .   218 

Abiding  and  Departing , Alexander  McKenzie,  D.D.    ...   221 

Afflictions  not  Accidental Rev.  John  Burton 223 

Death  of  Believers B.  M.  Palmer,  D.D 226 

The  Christian's  Victory  over  Death .  Rev.  John  Logan 228 

The  Master's  Call   in  Affliction Rev.  William  Cochrane 230 

Ripe  for  the  Harvest Rev.  W.  P.  Tiddy 232 

The  Approach  of  Death Erskine  Mason,  D.D 234 

Words  of  Comfort  for  Afflicted  Par- 
ents   Rev.  Lewis  O.  Thompson 235 

The   Tent    Home   and    the    Eternal 

Home T.  L.  Cuyler,  D.D 237 

No  Night  in  Heaven J.  M.  Sherwood,  D.D 239 

Glad  Home-going Rev.  John  Lobb 244 

The  Death  of  a  Mother Rev.  J.  M.  Johnson 245 

Preparations  for  Meeting  God R.  S.  Storrs,  D.D 247 

Human  Life  Transitory Edward  N.  Kirk,  D.D 248 

Emotion  of  a  Saint  in  Heaven Rev.  A.  S.  Gardner 251 

The  Blessed  Dead Rev.  William  Lloyd 252 

The  Hidings  of  God's  Providence. ..M.  W.  Hamma,  D.D 254 

How   Christ   Takes   away    Fear   of 

Death Rev.  R.  S.  S.  Dickinson 255 

Christ's    Resurrection    the  Promise 

and  Prophecy  of  our  Own T.  DeWitt  Talmage,  D.D 256 

Christ  and  the  Immortal  Life W.  J.  Tucker,  D.D , . .   257 

The  Death  of   Lazarus Rev.  Henry  Blunt 259 

The    Years     Fleeting    and    Heaven 

Nearing C.  L.  Goodell,  D.D 260 

The  Life  and  Death  of  a  Child Rev.  Wm.  Veenschoten 262 


CONTENTS. 


SUBJECT.  NAME.  PAGE 

Preparation  for  Eternity Justin  Edwards,  D.D 263 

Death  in  the  Midst  of  Life Jabez  Burns,  D.D 264 

Death-bed  Repentance Most  Rev.  John  MacHale,  D.D.,  265 

The  Changing  and  the  Changeless.  .Jabez  Burns,  D.D 265 

Not  Here,  but  Risen Rev.  John  Lobb 266 

Sudden  Death Rev.  E.  C.  Cure 267 

The  Web  of  Life Rev.  Edward  Blencowe. 268 

The  Secret  of  a  Successful  Ministry. Thomas  Armitage,  D.D 268 

The  Death  of  the  Righteous David  Thomas,  D.D 269 

SERMONS    IN   OUTLINE 270 

EXTRACTS   AND    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Thoughts  on  Life 281 

Thoughts  on  Death 283 

Thoughts  on  Heaven 289 

Thoughts  on  Affliction 290 

PRAYERS. 

At  the  Funeral  of  Cornelius  Vanderbilt.  By  C.  F.  Deems,  D.D. . . .  292 
Before  a  Sermon  on  "  The  Rest  of  God."  By  Rev.  H.  W.  Beecher.  294 
At  the  Funeral  of  President  Lincoln.     By  Rev.  Dr.  Grey 296 

TEXTS    FOR    FUNERAL   DISCOURSES. 

1.  Death  in  the  Prime  of  Life 298 

2.  Death  of  an  Obscure  Worker 298 

3.  Death  of  a  Parent 299 

4.  Death  of  the  Unrepentant 299 

5.  End  of  an  Unhappy  Life 300 

6.  Consolation  for  the  Bereaved 301 

7.  Sudden  or  Accidental  Death 303 

8.  Death  of  a  Young  Man  or  Woman 304 

9.  Death  of  an  Aged  Christian 305 

10.  Death  of  Children 306 

11.  Death  of  a  Prominent  Person 308 

12.  Admonition  and  Exhortation 310 

13.  Transiency  of  Life 312 

14.  Death  of  the  Righteous 317 

15.  Heaven  and  Immortality 323 

16.  Miscellaneous 329 


CONTENTS. 


MISCELLANY. 

PAGE 

About  Funeral  Addresses.    By  Pastor  Rudolph  M  tiller 332 

Points  of  Etiquette  in  Funerals 337 

Words  from  the  Dying 347 

Curious  Facts  concerning  Funeral  Rites 349 

Appropriate  Hymns  for  Funeral  Services 352 

Scripture  Readings 354 

Practical  Hints  354 

List  of  Appropriate  Poems  for  Quotation  and  Reading 355 

The  Carnage  of  War 356 

Textual  Index 359 

Index  of  Subjects 3^3 


INDEX    OF    AUTHORS    AND    CON- 
TRIBUTORS. 


Abbott,  Lyman,  D.D.,  211. 
Armitage,  Thos.,  D.D.,  268. 
Aurelius,  Marcus,  281. 
Barnes,  Rev.  Albert,  66. 
Beecher,  Rev.  H.  W.,  94,  294. 
Behringer,  Rev.  G.  F.,  332,  338. 
Bethune,  G.  \V.,  D.D.,  186. 
Blunt,  Rev.  Henry,  259. 
Blencowe,  Rev.  Edward,  268. 
Bossuet,  J.  B.,  172. 
Brooks,  Thomas,  D.D.,  284. 
Budington,  W.  I.,  D.D.,  218. 
Burns,  Jabez,  D.D.,  264,  265. 
Burton,  Rev.  John,  223. 
Chapman,  J.  A.  M.,  D.D.,  290. 
Christlieb,  Theodor,  D.D.,  147. 
Cochrane,  Rev.  Wm.,  230. 
Cook,  Joseph,  283. 
Cure,  Rev.  E.  C,  267. 
Cuyler,  T.  L.,  D.D.,  237,  338. 
Davis,  Rev.  W.  R.,  250. 
Deems,  C.  F.,  D.D.,  141,  292,  339. 
Dickinson,  Rev.  R.  S.  S.,  255. 
Drelincourt,  288. 
Edwards,  Justin,  D.D.,  263. 
Edwards,  Tryon,  D.D.,  123,  194, 
Fallows,  Rt.  Rev.  Samuel,  202. 
Fuller,  Richard,  D.D.,  79. 
Fulton,  J.  D.,  D.D.,  167. 
Gardner,  Rev.  A.  S.,  251. 
Goethe,  28r. 

Goodell,  C.  L.,  D.D.,260. 
Grey,  Rev.  Dr.,  296. 
Hall,  John,  D.D.,  158. 
Hamma,  M.  W.,  D.D.,  254. 
Hawes,  Joel,  D.D.,  52. 
Haynes,  E.  J.,  D.D.,  340 
Hooker,  H.  B.,  D.D.,  133. 
Ingersoll,  R.  G.,  170, 


Johnson,  Rev.  J.  M.,  245. 

Kirke,  E.  N.,  D.D.,  248. 

Lobb,  Rev.  John,  244,  266. 

Logan,  Rev.  John,  228. 

Lloyd,  Rev.  William,  252. 

Luthardt,  Chr.  E.,  D.D.,  31. 

MacHale,  Most  Rev.  John,  D.D.,  265. 

Mason,  Erskine,  D.D.,  234. 

Massillon,  J.  B.,  174,  284. 

McKenzie,  Alexander,  D.D.,  221. 

Meek,  Rev.  Zephaniah,  215. 

Montaigne,  284. 

Miiller,  Pastor  Rudolph,  332. 

Nott,  Eliphalet,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  13. 

Palmer,  B.  M.,  D.D.,  198,  226. 

Park,  Prof.,  282. 

Peck,  J.  O.,  D.D.,  341. 

Pierson,  A.  T.,  D.D.,  113. 

Ramsay,  W.  W.,  D.D.,  207. 

Richter,  287. 

Robertson,  Rev.  F.  W.,  181. 

Saurin,  Rev.  James,  175. 

Sherwood,  J.  M.,  D.D.,  161,  239,  342. 

Spencer,  I.  S.,  D.D.,  102. 

Spurgeon,  Rev.  C.  H.,  37. 

Sterne,  283. 

Storrs,  R.  S.,  D.D.,  247,  283,  286. 

Stowe,  Mrs.  H.  B.,  291. 

Talmage,  T.  D.,  D.D.,  256,  286  seq.,  28 

Taylor,  W.  M.,  D.D.,  153,  284,  290. 

Thomas,  David,  D.D.,  269. 

Thompson,  Rev.  L.  O.,  235. 

Tiddy,  Rev.  W.  P.,  232, 

Tiffany,  O.  H.,  D.D..  342. 

Todd,  John  A.,  D.D.,  190. 

Tucker,  W.  J.,  D.D.,  257. 

Veenschoten,  Rev.  Wm.,  262. 

Wedekind,  A.  C,  D.D.,  344. 


SERMONS. 


THE    FALL  OF    HAMILTON. 

BY    ELIPHALET    NOTT,     D.D.,     LL.  D. ,     UNION    COLLEGE. 
How  are  the  mighty  fallen  ! — 2  Samuel  i.  19. 

The  occasion  explains  the  choice  of  my  subject — a  subject  on 
which  I  enter  in  obedience  to  your  request.  You  have  assembled 
to  express  your  elegiac  sorrows,  and  sad  and  solemn  weeds  cover 
you.  Before  such  an  audience,  and  on  such  an  occasion,  I  enter 
on  the  duty  assigned  me  with  trembling.  Do  not  mistake  my 
meaning.  I  tremble,  indeed  —  not,  however,  through  fear  of 
failing  to  merit  your  applause  ;  for  what  have  I  to  do  with  that, 
when  addressing  the  dying  and  treading  on  the  ashes  of  the  dead  ? 
— not  through  fear  of  failing  justly  to  portray  the  character  of  that 
great  man  who  is  at  once  the  theme  of  my  encomium  and  regret. 
He  needs  not  eulogy.  His  work  is  finished,  and  death  has  re- 
moved him  beyond  my  censure,  and,  I  would  fondly  hope, 
through  grace,  above  my  praise. 

You  will  ask,  then,  why  I  tremble  ?  I  tremble  to  think  that  I 
am  called  to  attack  from  this  place  a  crime,  the  very  idea  of  which 
almost  freezes  one  with  horror — a  crime,  too,  which  exists  among 
the  polite  and  polished  orders  of  society,  and  which  is  accompanied 
with  every  aggravation — committed  with  cool  deliberation,  and 
openly  in  the  face  of  day  !  But  I  have  a  duty  to  perform  ;  and 
difficult  and  awful  as  that  duty  is,  I  will  not  shrink  from  it. 
Would  to  God  my  talents  were  adequate  to  the  occasion  ;  but 
such  as  they  are,  I  devoutly  proffer  them  to  unfold  the  nature 
and  counteract  the  influence  of  that  barbarous  custom,  which, 
like  a  resistless  torrent,  is  undermining  the  foundations  of  civil 
government,  breaking  down  the  barriers  of  social  happiness,  and 
sweeping  away  virtue,  talents,  and  domestic  felicity,  in  its  desolat- 


14  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

ing  course.  Another  and  an  illustrious  character — a  father,  a 
general,  a  statesman — the  very  man  who  stood  on  an  eminence, 
and  without  a  rival  among  sages  and  heroes,  the  future  hope  of 
his  country  in  danger — this  man,  yielding  to  the  influence  of  a 
custom  which  deserves  our  eternal  reprobation,  has  been  brought 
to  an  untimely  end  ! 

That  the  deaths  of  great  and  useful  men  should  be  particularly 
noticed,  is  equally  the  dictate  of  reason  and  revelation.  The  tears 
of  Israel  flowed  at  the  decease  of  good  Josiah,  and  to  his  memory 
the  funeral  women  chanted  the  solemn  dirge.  But  neither  exam- 
ples nor  arguments  are  necessary  to  wake  the  sympathies  of  a  grate- 
ful people  on  such  occasions.  The  death  of  public  benefactors 
surcharges  the  heart,  and  it  spontaneously  disburdens  itself  by  a 
flow  of  sorrows.  Such  was  the  death  of  Washington,  to  embalm 
whose  memory,  and  perpetuate  whose  deathless  fame,  we  lent  our 
feeble  but  unnecessary  services.  Such,  also,  and  more  peculiarly 
so,  has  been  the  death  of  Hamilton.  The  tidings  of  the  former 
moved  us — mournfully  moved  us — and  we  wept.  The  account 
of  the  latter  chilled  our  hopes  and  curdled  our  blood.  The 
former  died  in  a  good  old  age  ;  the  latter  was  cut  off  in  the  midst 
of  his  usefulness.  The  former  was  a  customary  providence  :  we 
saw  in  it,  if  I  may  speak  so,  the  finger  of  God,  and  rested  in  His 
sovereignty.  The  latter  is  not  attended  with  this  soothing  circum- 
stance. 

The  fall  of  Hamilton  owes  its  existence  to  mad  deliberation, 
and  is  marked  by  violence.  The  time,  the  place,  the  circum- 
stances, are  arranged  with  barbarous  coolness.  The  instrument 
of  death  is  levelled  in  daylight,  and  with  well-directed  skill  pointed 
at  his  heart.  Alas  !  the  event  has  proven  that  it  was  but  too  well 
directed.  Wounded,  mortally  wounded,  on  the  very  spot  which 
still  smoked  with  the  blood  of  a  favorite  son,  into  the  arms  of  his 
indiscreet  and  cruel  friend,  the  father  fell.  Ah  !  had  he  fallen  in 
the  course  or  nature,  or  jeopardizing  his  life  in  defence  of  his 
country  ;  had  he  fallen — but  he  did  not.  He  fell  in  single  com- 
bat. Pardon  my  mistake — he  did  not  fall  in  single  combat  :  his 
noble  nature  refused  to  endanger  the  life  of  his  antagonist.  But 
he  exposed  his  own  life.  This  was  his  crime  ;  and  the  sacredness 
of  my  office  forbids  that  I  should  hesitate  explicitly  to  declare  it 
so.     He  did  not  hesitate  to  declare  it  so  himself :  "  My  religious 


THE  FALL    OF  HAMILTON.  15 

and  moral  principles  are  strongly  opposed  to  duelling."  These 
are  his  words  before  he  ventured  to  the  field  of  death.  ' '  I  view 
the  late  transaction  with  sorrow  and  contrition. "  These  are  his 
words  after  his  return.  Humiliating  end  of  illustrious  greatness  ! 
How  are  the  mighty  fallen!  And  shall  the  mighty  thus  fall? 
Thus  shall  the  noblest  lives  be  sacrificed  and  the  richest  blood  be 
spilt  !      Tell  it  not  in  Gath  ;  publish  it  not  in  the  streets  of  Askalon. 

Think  not  that  the  fatal  issue  of  the  late  inhuman  interview  was 
fortuitous.  No  :  the  hand  that  guides  unseen  the  arrow  of  the 
archer,  steadied  and  directed  the  arm  of  the  duellist.  And  why 
did  it  thus  direct  it  ?  As  a  solemn  ?nemento — as  a  loud  and  awful 
warning  to  a  community  where  justice  has  slumbered,  and  slum- 
bered, and  slumbered — while  the  wife  has  been  robbed  of  her  part- 
ner, the  mother  of  her  hopes,  and  life  after  life  rashly,  and  with 
an  air  of  triumph,  sported  away.  And  was  there,  O  my  God  ! 
no  other  sacrifice  valuable  enough  ?  Would  the  cry  of  no  other 
blood  reach  the  place  of  retribution,  and  wake  justice,  dozing  over 
her  awful  seat  ?  But  though  justice  should  still  slumber  and  ret- 
ribution be  delayed,  we,  who  are  the  ministers  of  that  God  who 
will  judge  the  judges  of  the  world,  and  whose  malediction  rests  on 
him  who  does  his  work  unfaithfully — we  will  not  keep  silence. 

I  feel,  my  brethren,  how  incongruous  my  subject  is  with  the 
place  I  occupy.  It  is  humiliating,  it  is  distressing,  in  a  Christian 
country,  and  in  churches  consecrated  to  the  religion  of  Jesus,  to 
be  obliged  to  attack  a  crime  which  outstrips  barbarism,  and 
would  even  sink  the  character  of  a  generous  savage.  But  humil- 
iating as  it  is,  it  is  necessary.  And  must  we,  then,  even  for  a 
moment,  forget  the  elevation  on  which  grace  hath  placed  us,  and 
the  light  which  the  gospel  sheds  around  us  ?  Must  we  place  our- 
selves back  in  the  midst  of  barbarism  ?  And  instead  of  hearers 
softened  to  forgiveness  by  the  love  of  Jesus,  filled  with  noble  sen- 
timents toward  enemies,  and  waiting  for  occasions,  after  the  ex- 
ample of  divinity,  to  do  them  good — instead  of  such  hearers,  must 
we  suppose  ourselves  addressing  hearts  petrified  to  goodness,  in- 
capable of  mercy,  and  boiling  with  revenge  ?  Must  we,  O  my 
God  !  instead  of  exhorting  those  who  hear  us  to  go  on  unto  per- 
fection, adding  to  virtue  charity,  and  to  charity  brotherly  kindness ; 
must  we,  as  if  surrounded  by  an  auditory  just  emerging  out  of 
darkness,  and  still  cruel  and  ferocious,  reason  to  convince  them 


16  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

that  revenge  is  improper,  and  that  to  commit  deliberate  murder  is 
sin  ?  Yes,  we  must  do  this.  Repeated  violations  of  the  law,  and 
the  sanctuary  which  the  guilty  find  in  public  sentiment,  prove  that 
it  is  necessary. 

Withdraw,  therefore,  for  a  moment,  ye  celestial  spirits,  ye  holy 
angels,  accustomed  to  hover  around  these  altars,  and  listen  to  those 
strains  of  grace  which  heretofore  have  filled  this  house  of  God. 
Other  subjects  occupy  us.  Withdraw,  therefore,  and  leave  us  ; 
leave  us  to  exhort  Christian  parents  to  restrain  their  vengeance,  and 
at  least  to  keep  back  their  hands  from  blood — to  exhort  youth 
nurtured  in  Christian  families,  not  rashly  to  sport  with  life,  nor 
lightly  to  wring  the  widow's  heart  with  sorrows,  and  fill  the 
orphan's  eye  with  tears. 

In  accomplishing  the  object  which  is  before  me,  it  will  not  be 
expected,  as  it  is  not  necessary,  that  I  should  give  a  history  of 
duelling.  You  need  not  be  informed  that  it  originated  in  a  dark 
and  barbarous  age.  The  polished  Greek  knew  nothing  of  it ;  the 
noble  Roman  was  above  it.  Rome  held  in  equal  detestation  the 
man  who  exposed  his  life  unnecessarily,  and  him  who  refused  to 
expose  it  when  the  public  good  required  it.  *  Her  heroes  were 
superior  to  private  contests.  They  indulged  no  vengeance,  except 
against  the  enemies  of  their  country.  Their  swords  were  not 
drawn,  unless  her  honor  was  in  danger  ;  which  honor  they  de- 
fended with  their  swords  not  only,  but  shielded  with  their  bosoms 
also,  and  were  then  prodigal  of  their  blood.  But  though  Greece 
and  Rome  knew  nothing  of  duelling,  it  exists.  It  exists  among 
us  ;  and  it  exists  at  once  the  most  rash,  the  most  absurd,  and 
guilty  practice  that  ever  disgraced  a  Christian  nation. 

Guilty — because  it  is  a  violation  of  the  law.  What  law  ? 
The  law  of  God  :  Thou  shalt  not  kill.  This  prohibition  was 
delivered  by  God  Himself,  at  Sinai  to  the  Jews.  And  that  it  is 
of  universal  and  perpetual  obligation  is  manifest,  not  only  from 
the  nature  of  the  crime  prohibited,  but  also  from  the  express  dec- 
laration of  the  Christian  lawgiver,  who  hath  recognized  its  justice 
and  added  to  it  the  sanction  of  his  own  authority. 

"Thou  shalt  not  kill."  Who?  Thou,  creature.  I,  the 
Creator,  have  given  life,  and  thou  shalt  not  take  it  away  !     When, 

*Sallust,  de  Bell.  Catil.,  ix. 


THE  FALL    OF  HAMILTON.  17 

and  under  what  circumstances,  may  I  not  take  away  life  ?  Never, 
and  under  no  circumstances,  without  my  permission.  It  is  ob- 
vious that  no  discretion  whatever  is  here  given.  The  prohibition 
is  addressed  to  every  individual  where  the  law  of  God  is  promul- 
gated, and  the  terms  made  use  of  are  express  and  unequivocal. 
So  that  life  cannot  be  taken  under  any  pretext,  without  incurring 
guilt,  unless  by  a  permission  sanctioned  by  the  same  authority 
which  sanctions  the  general  law  prohibiting  it.  From  this  law,  it 
is  granted,  there  are  exceptions.  These  exceptions,  however,  do 
not  result  from  any  sovereignty  which  one  creature  has  over  the 
existence  of  another,  but  from  the  positive  appointment  of  that 
Eternal  Being,  whose  "  is  the  world  and  the  fulness  thereof.  In 
whose  hand  is  the  soul  of  every  living  creature,  and  the  breath  of 
all  mankind."  Even  the  authority  which  we  claim  over  the 
lives  of  animals  is  not  founded  on  a  natural  right,  but  on  a  posi- 
tive grant  made  by  the  Deity  Himself,  to  Noah  and  his  sons. 
This  grant  contains  our  warrant  for  taking  the  life  of  animals. 
But  if  we  may  not  take  the  life  of  animals  without  permission  from 
God,  much  less  may  we  the  life  of  man  made  in  His  image. 

In  what  cases,  then,  has  the  sovereign  of  life  given  this  permis- 
sion ?  In  rightful  war  ;  by  the  civil  magistrate,  and  in 
necessary  self-defence.  Besides  these,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  de- 
clare, that  in  the  oracles  of  God  there  are  no  other. 

He,  therefore,  who  takes  life  in  any  other  case,  under  whatever 
pretext,  takes  it  unwarrantably — is  guilty  of  what  the  Scriptures  call 
murder,  and  exposes  himself  to  the  malediction  of  that  God  who 
is  an  avenger  of  blood,  and  who  hath  said,  "  At  the  hand  of  every 
man's  brother  will  I  require  the  life  of  man.  Whoso  sheddeth 
man's  blood,  by  man  shall  his  blood  be  shed."  The  duellist  con- 
travenes the  law  of  God  not  only,  but  the  law  of  man  also.  To  the 
prohibition  of  the  former  have  been  added  the  sanctions  of  the 
latter.  Life  taken  in  a  duel  by  the  common  law  is  murder. 
And  where  this  is  not  the  case,  the  giving  and  receiving  of  a  chal- 
lenge only  is  by  statute  f  considered  a  high  misdemeanor,  for 
which  the  principal  and  his  second  are  declared  infamous  and  dis- 
franchised for  twenty  years. 

Under  what  accumulated  circumstances  of  aggravation  does  the 
duellist  jeopardize  his  own  life,  or  take  the  life  of  his  antagonist ! 
I  am  sensible  that  in  a  licentious  age,  and  when  laws  are  made 


PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 


to  yield  to  the  vices  of  those  who  move  in  the  higher  circles,  this 
crime  is  called  by  I  know  not  what  mild  and  accommodating  name. 
But,  before  these  altars — in  this  house  of  God — what  is  it  ?  It  is 
murder — deliberate,  aggravated  murder  !  If  the  duellist  deny  this, 
let  him  produce  his  warrant  from  the  author  of  life  for  taking 
away  from  his  creature  the  life  which  had  been  sovereignly  given. 
If  he  cannot  do  this,  beyond  all  controversy  he  is  a  murderer  ; 
for  murder  consists  in  taking  away  life  without  the  permission, 
and  contrary  to  the  prohibition,  of  Him  who  gave  it. 

Who  is  it,  then,  that  calls  the  duellist  to  the  dangerous  and 
deadly  combat  ?  Is  it  God  ?  No  :  on  the  contrary,  He  forbids 
it.  Is  it,  then,  his  country  ?  No  :  she  also  utters  her  prohibi- 
tory voice.  Who  is  it,  then  ?  A  man  of  honor  !  And  who  is  the 
man  of  honor  ?  A  man,  perhaps,  whose  honor  is  a  name  ;  who 
prates  with  polluted  lips  about  the  sacredness  of  character,  when 
his  own  is  stained  with  crimes,  and  needs  but  the  single  shade  of 
murder  to  complete  the  dismal  and  sickly  picture.  Every  trans- 
gression of  the  divine  law  implies  great  guilt,  because  it  is  the 
transgression  of  infinite  authority.  But  the  crime  of  deliberately 
and  lightly  taking  life  has  peculiar  aggravations.  It  is  a  crime 
committed  against  written  law  not  only,  but  also  against  the  dic- 
tates of  reason,  the  remonstrances  of  conscience,  and  every  tender 
and  amiable  feeling  of  the  heart.  To  the  unfortunate  sufferer  it 
is  the  wanton  violation  of  his  most  sacred  rights.  It  snatches 
him  from  his  friends  and  his  comforts  ;  terminates  his  state  of 
trial,  and  precipitates  him,  uncalled  for,  and  perhaps  unprepared, 
into  the  presence  of  his  Judge. 

You  say  the  duellist  feels  no  malice.  Be  it  so.  Malice,  indeed, 
is  murder  in  principle.  But  there  may  be  murder  in  reason,  and 
in  fact,  where  there  is  no  malice.  Some  other  unwarrantable  pas- 
sion or  principle  may  lead  to  the  unlawful  taking  of  human  life. 
The  highwayman,  who  cuts  the  throat  and  rifles  the  pocket  of  the 
passing  traveller,  feels  no  malice.  And  could  he,  with  equal  ease 
and  no  greater  danger  of  detection,  have  secured  his  booty  with- 
out taking  life,  he  would  have  stayed  his  arm  over  the  palpitating 
bosom  of  his  victim,  and  let  the  plundered  suppliant  pass. 
Would  the  imputation  of  cowardice  have  been  inevitable  to  the 
duellist,  if  a  challenge  had  not  been  given  or  accepted  ?  The 
imputation  of  want  had  been  no  less  inevitable  to  the  robber,  if 


THE  FALL    OF  HAMILTON.  19 

the  money  of  the  passing  traveller  had  not  been  secured.  Would 
the  duellist  have  been  willing  to  have  spared  the  life  of  his  antago- 
nist, if  the  point  of  honor  could  otherwise  have  been  gained  ?  So 
would  the  robber,  if  the  point  of  property  could  have  been.  Who 
can  say  that  the  motives  of  the  one  are  not  as  urgent  as  the 
motives  of  the  other,  and  the  means  by  which  both  obtain  the  ob- 
ject of  their  wishes  are  the  same  ?  Thus,  according  to  the  dic- 
tates of  reason,  as  well  as  the  law  of  God,  the  highwayman  and 
the  duellist  stand  on  ground  equally  untenable,  and  support  their 
guilty  havoc  of  the  human  race  by  arguments  equally  fallacious. 

Is  duelling  guilty  ?  So  it  is  absurd.  It  is  absurd  as  a  punish- 
ment, for  it  admits  of  no  proportion  to  crimes  :  and  besides, 
virtue  and  vice,  guilt  and  innocence,  are  equally  exposed  by  it  to 
death  or  suffering.  As  a  reparation  it  is  still  more  absurd,  for  it 
makes  the  injured  liable  to  still  greater  injury.  And  as  the  vindi- 
cation of  personal  character,  it  is  absurd  even  beyond  madness. 
One  man  of  honor,  by  some  inadvertence,  or  perhaps  with  design, 
injures  the  sensibility  of  another  man  of  honor.  In  perfect  charac- 
ter, the  injured  gentleman  resents  it.  He  challenges  the  offender. 
The  offender  accepts  the  challenge.  The  time  is  fixed.  The 
place  is  agreed  upon.  The  circumstances,  with  an  air  of  solemn 
mania,  are  arranged  ;  and  the  principals,  with  their  seconds  and 
surgeons,  retire  under  the  covert  of  some  solitary  hill,  or  upon 
the  margin  of  some  unfrequented  beach,  to  settle  this  important 
question  of  honor  by  stabbing  or  shooting  at  each  other.  One 
or  the  other  or  both  the  parties  fall  in  this  polite  and  gentleman- 
like contest.  And  what  does  this  prove  ?  It  proves  that  one  or 
the  other,  or  both  of  them,  as  the  case  may  be,  are  marksmen. 
But  it  affords  no  evidence  that  either  of  them  possesses  honor, 
probity,  cr  talents.  It  is  true,  that  he  who  falls  in  single  combat 
has  the  honor  of  being  murdered  :  and  he  who  takes  his  life  the 
honor  of  a  murderer.  Besides  this,  I  know  not  of  any  glory 
which  can  redound  to  the  infatuated  combatants,  except  it  be 
what  results  from  having  extended  the  circle  of  wretched  widows, 
and  added  to  the  number  of  hapless  orphans. 

And  yet,  terminate  as  it  will,  this  frantic  meeting,  by  a  kind  of 
magic  influence,  entirely  varnishes  over  a  defective  and  smutty 
character  ;  transforms  vice  to  virtue,  cowardice  to  courage  ;  makes 
falsehood  truth,  guilt  innocence.      In   one  word,  it  gives  a  new 


PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 


complexion  to  the  whole  state  of  things.  The  Ethiopian  changes 
his  skin,  the  leopard  his  spot ;  and  the  debauched  and  treacher- 
ous, having  shot  away  the  infamy  of  a  sorry  life,  comes  back  from 
the  field  of  perfectibility  quite  regenerated,  and  in  the  fullest 
sense  an  honorable  man.  He  is  now  fit  for  the  company  of  gen- 
tlemen. He  is  admitted  to  that  company,  and  should  he  again 
by  acts  of  violence  stain  this  purity  of  character  so  nobly  acquired, 
and  should  any  one  have  the  effrontery  to  say  that  he  has  done 
so,  again  he  stands  ready  to  vindicate  his  honor,  and  by  another 
act  of  homicide  to  wipe  away  the  stain  which  has  been  attached 
to  it. 

I  might  illustrate  this  article  by  example.  I  might  produce 
instances  of  this  mysterious  transformation  of  character,  in  the 
sublime  circles  of  moral  refinement,  furnished  by  the  higher 
orders  of  the  fashionable  world,  which  the  mere  firing  of  pistols 
has  produced.      But  the  occasion  is  too  awful  for  irony. 

Absurd  as  duelling  is,  were  it  absurd  only,  though  we  might 
smile  at  the  weakness  and  pity  the  folly  of  its  abettors,  there  would 
be  no  occasion  for  seriously  attacking  them.  But,  to  what  has 
been  said,  I  add,  that  duelling  is  rash  and  presumptuous.  Life  is 
the  gift  of  God,  and  it  was  never  bestowed  to  be  sported  with. 
To  each,  the  sovereign  of  the  universe  has  marked  out  a  sphere  to 
move  in,  and  assigned  a  part  to  act.  -  This  part  respects  ourselves 
not  only,  but  others  also.  Each  lives  for  the  benefit  of  all.  As 
in  the  system  of  nature  the  sun  shines,  not  to  display  its  own 
brightness,  and  answer  its  own  convenience,  but  to  warm,  en- 
lighten, and  bless  the  world  ;  so  in  the  system  of  animated  beings, 
there  is  a  dependence,  a  correspondence  and  a  relation  through 
an  infinitely  extended,  dying,  and  reviving  universe,  in  which  no 
man  liveth  to  himself,  and  no  man  dieth  to  himself.  Friend  is  related 
to  friend  ;  the  father  to  his  family  ;  the  individual  to  community. 
To  every  member  of  which,  having  fixed  his  station  and  assigned 
his  duty,  the  God  of  nature  says,  "  Keep  this  trust — defend  this 
post. ' '  For  whom  ?  For  thy  friends — thy  family — thy  country. 
And  having  received  such  a  charge,  and  for  such  a  purpose,  to 
desert  it  is  rashness  and  temerity. 

Since  the  opinions  of  men  are  as  they  are,  do  you  ask  how  you 
shall  avoid  the  imputation  of  cowardice,  if  you  do  not  fight  when 
you  are  injured  ?     Ask  your  family  how  you  will  avoid  the  im- 


THE  FALL    OF  HAMILTON.  2X 

putation  of  cruelty — ask  your  conscience  how  you  will  avoid  the 
imputation  of  guilt — ask  God  how  you  will  avoid  His  malediction 
if  you  do.  These  are  previous  questions.  Let  these  first  be  an- 
swered, and  it  will  be  easy  to  reply  to  any  which  may  follow 
them.  If  you  only  accept  a  challenge,  when  you  believe  in  your 
conscience  that  duelling  is  wrong,  you  act  the  coward.  The  das- 
tardly fear  of  the  world  governs  you.  Awed  by  its  menaces,  you 
conceal  your  sentiments,  appear  in  disguise,  and  act  in  guilty 
conformity  to  principles  not  your  own,  and  that,  too,  in  the  most 
solemn  moment,  and  when  engaged  in  an  act  which  exposes  you 
to  death. 

But  if  it  be  rashness  to  accept,  how  passing  rashness  is  it,  in  a 
sinner,  to  give  a  challenge  ?  Does  it  become  him,  whose  life  is 
measured  out  by  crimes,  to  be  extreme  to  mark,  and  punctilious 
lo  resent,  whatever  is  amiss  in  others  ?  Must  the  duellist,  who  now, 
disdaining  to  forgive,  so  imperiously  demands  satisfaction  to  the 
uttermost — must  this  man,  himself  trembling  at  the  recollection 
of  his  offences,  presently  appear  a  suppliant  before  the  mercy-seat 
of  God  ?  Imagine  this,  and  the  case  is  not  imaginary,  and  you  can- 
not conceive  an  instance  of  greater  inconsistency  or  of  more  pre- 
sumptuous arrogance.  Wherefore,  avenge  7iot yourselves,  but  rather 
give  place  unto  wrath  ;  for  vengeance  is  mine,  I  will  repay  it,  saith 
the  Lord. 

Do  you  ask,  then,  how  you  shall  conduct  toward  your  enemy 
who  hath  lightly  done  you  wrong  ?  If  he  be  hungry,  feed  him  ; 
if  naked,  clothe  him  ;  if  thirsty,  give  him  drink.  Such,  had  you 
preferred  your  question  to  Jesus  Christ,  is  the  answer  He  had 
given  you  ;  by  observing  which,  you  will  usually  subdue,  and 
always  act  more  honorably  than  your  enemy.  I  feel,  my  brethren, 
as  a  minister  of  Jesus,  and  a  teacher  of  His  gospel,  a  noble  eleva- 
tion on  this  article.  Compare  the  conduct  of  the  Christian,  acting 
in  conformity  to  the  principles  of  religion,  and  of  the  duellist  act- 
ing in  conformity  to  the  principles  of  honor,  and  let  reason  say 
which  bears  the  marks  of  the  more  exalted  greatness.  Compare 
them,  and  let  reason  say  which  enjoys  the  more  calm  serenity  of 
mind  in  time,  and  which  is  likely  to  receive  the  plaudits  of  his 
Judge  in  immortality.  God,  from  His  throne,  beholds  not  a 
nobler  object  on  His  footstool,  than  the  man  who  1  oves  his  ene- 
mies, pities  their  errors,   and  forgives  the  injuries  they  do  him. 


PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 


This  is,  indeed,  the  very  spirit  of  the  heavens  ;  it  is  the  image  of 
His  benignity  whose  glory  fills  them. 

To  return  to  the  subject  before  us  :  guilty,  absurd,  and  rash 
as  duelling  is,  it  has  its  advocates.  And,  had  it  not  had  its  advo- 
cates— had  not  a  strange  preponderance  of  opinion  been  in  favor 
of  it,  never,  O  lamented  Hamilton  !  hadst  thou  thus  fallen,  in 
the  midst  of  thy  days,  and  before  thou  hadst  reached  the  zenith  of 
thy  glory  !  O  that  I  possessed  the  talent  of  eulogy,  and  that  1 
might  be  permitted  to  indulge  the  tenderness  of  friendship,  in 
paying  the  last  tribute  to  his  memory.  O  that  I  were  capable  of 
placing  this  great  man  before  you.  Could  I  do  this,  I  should  fur- 
nish you  with  an  argument,  the  most  practical,  the  most  plain, 
the  most  convincing,  except  that  drawn  from  the  mandate  of  God, 
that  was  ever  furnished  against  duelling — that  horrid  practice, 
which  has,  in  an  awful  moment,  robbed  the  world  of  such  exalted 
worth.  But  I  cannot  do  this  ;  I  can  only  hint  at  the  variety  and 
exuberance  of  his  excellence. 

The  man,  on  whom  nature  seems  originally  to  have  impressed 
the  stamp  of  greatness  ;  whose  genius  beamed  from  the  retirement 
of  collegiate  life,  with  a  radiance  which  dazzled,  and  a  loveliness 
which  charmed  the  eyes  of  sages.  The  hero,  called  from  his  se- 
questered retreat,  whose  first  appearance  in  the  field,  though  a  strip- 
ling, conciliated  the  esteem  of  Washington,  our  good  old  father  ; 
moving  by  whose  side,  during  all  the  perils  of  the  Revolution,  our 
young  chieftain  was  a  contributor  to  the  veteran's  glory,  the  guar- 
dian of  his  person,  and  the  compartner  of  his  toils.  The  con- 
queror, who,  sparing  of  human  blood,  when  victory  favored, 
stayed  the  uplifted  arm,  and  nobly  said  to  the  vanquished  enemy, 
"Live!"  The  statesman,  the  correctness  of  whose  principles, 
and  the  strength  of  whose  mind,  are  inscribed  on  the  records  of 
Congress,  and  on  the  annals  of  the  council-chamber  ;  whose 
genius  impressed  itself  upon  the  Constitution  of  his  country,  and 
whose  memory,  the  government — illustrious  fabric — resting  on 
this  basis,  will  perpetuate  while  it  lasts  ;  and,  shaken  by  the  vio- 
lence of  party,  should  it  fall  (which  may  heaven  avert !)  his  pro- 
phetic declarations  will  be  found  inscribed  on  its  ruins.  The 
counsellor,  who  was  at  once  the  pride  of  the  bar,  and  the  admira- 
tion of  the  court  ;  whose  apprehensions  were  quick  as  lightning, 
and  whose  development  of  truth  was  luminous  as  its  path  ;  whose 


THE  FALL    OF  HAMILTON.  23 

argument  no  change  of  circumstances  could  embarrass  ;  whose 
knowledge  appeared  intuitive,  and  who,  by  a  single  glance,  and 
with  as  much  facility  as  the  eye  of  the  eagle  passes  over  the  land- 
scape, surveyed  the  whole  field  of  controversy — saw  in  what  way 
truth  might  be  most  successfully  defended,  and  how  error  must 
be  approached.  And  who,  without  ever  stopping,  ever  hesitating, 
by  a  rapid  and  manly  march,  led  the  listening  judge  and  the  fas- 
cinated juror,  step  by  step,  through  a  delightsome  region,  brighten- 
ing as  he  advanced,  till  his  argument  rose  to  demonstration,  and 
eloquence  was  rendered  useless  by  conviction  ;  whose  talents  were 
employed  on  the  side  of  righteousness  ;  whose  voice,  whether  in 
the  council-chamber  or  at  the  bar  of  justice,  was  virtue's  conso- 
lation, at  whose  approach  oppressed  humanity  felt  a  secret  rapture, 
and  the  heart  of  injured  innocence  leapt  for  joy. 

Where  Hamilton  was — in  whatever  sphere  he  moved — the 
friendless  had  a  friend,  the  fatherless  a  father,  and  the  poor  man, 
though  unable  to  reward  his  kindness,  found  an  advocate.  It 
was  when  the  rich  oppressed  the  poor — when  the  powerful  men- 
aced the  defenceless— when  truth  was  disregarded,  or  the  eternal 
principles  of  justice  violated — it  was  on  these  occasions  that  he 
exerted  all  his  strength.  It  was  on  these  occasions  that  he  some- 
times soared  so  high,  and  shone  with  a  radiance  so  transcendent, 
I  had  almost  said,  so  "  heavenly  as  filled  those  around  him  with 
awe,  and  gave  to  him  the  force  and  authority  of  a  prophet." 

The  patriot,  whose  integrity  baffled  the  scrutiny  of  inquisi- 
tion ;  whose  manly  virtue  never  shaped  itself  to  circumstances  • 
who,  always  great,  always  himself,  stood  amid*  the  varying  tides 
of  party,  firm,  like  the  rock,  which,  far  from  land,  lifts  its  majes- 
tic top  above  the  waves,  and  remains  unshaken  by  the  storms 
which  agitate  the  ocean.  The  friend,  who  knew  no  guile  ; 
whose  bosom  was  transparent,  and  deep  in  the  bottom  of  whose 
heart  was  rooted  every  tender  and  sympathetic  virtue  ;  whose  vari- 
ous worth  opposing  parties  acknowledged  while  alive,  and  on 
whose  tomb  they  unite  with  equal  sympathy  and  grief  to  heap 
their  honors. 

I  know  he  had  his  failings.  I  see  on  the  picture  of  his  life,  a 
picture  rendered  awful  by  greatness,  and  luminous  by  virtue, 
some  dark  shades.  On  these  let  the  tear  that  pities  human  weak- 
ness fall  :  on  these  let  the  veil  which  covers  human  frailty  rest. 


24  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

As  a  Hero,  as  a  Statesman,  as  a  Patriot,    he  lived  nobly  ;    and 
would  to  God,  I  could  add,  he  nobly  fell. 

Unwilling  to  admit  his  error  in  this  respect,  I  go  back  to  the 
period  of  discussion.  I  see  him  resisting  the  threatened  interview. 
I  imagine  myself  present  in  his  chamber.  Various  reasons,  for  a 
time,  seem  to  hold  his  determination  in  arrest.  Various  and  mov- 
ing objects  pass  before  him,  and  speak  a  dissuasive  language. 
His  country,  which  may  need  his  counsels  to  guide  and  his  arm 
to  defend,  utters  her  veto.  The  partner  of  his  youth,  already  cov- 
ered with  weeds,  and  whose  tears  flow  down  into  her  bosom,  in- 
tercedes !  His  babes,  stretching  out  their  little  hands  and  point- 
ing to  a  weeping  mother,  with  lisping  eloquence,  but  eloquence 
which  reaches  a  parent's  heart,  cry  out,  "  Stay,  stay,  dear  father, 
and  live  for  us  !"  In  the  meantime,  the  spectre  of  a  fallen  son, 
pale  and  ghastly,  approaches,  opens  his  bleeding  bosom,  and  as 
the  harbinger  of  death,  points  to  the  yawning  tomb,  and  forewarns 
a  hesitating  father  of  the  issue.  He  pauses,  reviews  these  sad 
objects,  and  reasons  on  the  subject.  I  admire  his  magnanimity  ; 
I  approve  his  reasoning,  and  I  wait  to  hear  him  reject  with  indig- 
nation the  murderous  proposition,  and  -to  see  him  spurn  from  his 
presence  the  presumptuous  bearer  of  it. 

But  I  wait  in  vain.  It  was  a  moment  in  which  his  great  wis- 
dom forsook  him,  a  moment  in  which  Hamilton  was  not  him- 
self. He  yielded  to  the  force  of  an  imperious  custom,  and  yield- 
ing, he  sacrificed  a  life  in  which  all  had  an  interest  ;  and  he  is 
lost-— lost  to  his  country — lost  to  his  family — lost  to  us  !  For 
this  act,  because  he  disclaimed  it,  and  was  penitent,  I  forgive 
him.  But  there  are  those  whom  I  cannot  forgive,  I  mean  not 
his  antagonist,  over  whose  erring  steps,  if  there  be  tears  in  heaven, 
a  pious  mother  looks  down  and  weeps.  If  he  be  capable  of  feel- 
ing, he  suffers  already  all  that  humanity  can  suffer.  Suffers,  and 
wherever  he  may  fly  will  suffer  with  the  poignant  recollection 
of  having  taken  the  life  of  one  who  was  too  magnanimous  in  re- 
turn to  attempt  his  own.  Had  he  have  known  this,  it  must  have 
paralyzed  his  arm  while  it  pointed,  at  so  incorruptible  a  bosom, 
the  instrument  of  death.  Does  he  know  this  now,  his  heart,  if  it 
be  not  adamant,  must  soften — if  it  be  not  ice,  it  must  melt. 

But  on  this  article  I  forbear.  Stained  with  blood  as  he  is,  if 
he  be  penitent,  I  forgive  him  ;  and  if  he  be  not,  before  these 


THE  FALL    OF  HAMILTON.  25 

altars,  where  all  of  us  appear  as  suppliants,  I  wish  not  to  excite 
your  vengeance,  but  rather,  in  behalf  of  an  object  rendered 
wretched  and  pitiable  by  crime,  to  wake  your  prayers. 

But  I  have  said,  and  I  repeat  it,  there  are  those  whom  I  can- 
not forgive.  I  cannot  forgive  that  minister  at  the  altar,  who  has 
hitherto  forborne  to  remonstrate  on  this  subject.  I  cannot  for- 
give that  public  prosecutor,  who,  intrusted  with  the  duty  of  aveng- 
ing his  country's  wrongs,  has  seen  those  wrongs,  and  taken  no 
measures  to  avenge  them.  I  cannot  forgive  that  judge  upon  the 
bench,  or  that  governor  in  the  chair  of  State,  who  has  lightly 
passed  over  such  offences.  I. cannot  forgive  the  public,  in  whose 
opinion  the  duellist  finds  a  sanctuary.  I  cannot  forgive  you, 
my  brethren,  who,  till  this  late  hour,  have  been  silent,  while  suc- 
cessive murders  were  committed.  No,  I  cannot  forgive  you,  that 
you  have  not,  in  common  with  the  freemen  of  this  State,  raised 
your  voice  to  the  powers  that  be,  and  loudly  and  explicitly  de- 
manded an  execution  of  your  laws.  Demanded  this  in  a  manner 
which,  if  it  did  not  reach  the  ear  of  government,  would  at  least 
have  reached  the  heavens,  and  plead  your  excuse  before  the  God 
that  filled  them.  In  whose  presence,  as  I  stand,  I  should  not  feel 
myself  innocent  of  the  blood  which  crieth  against  us,  had  I  been 
silent.  But  I  have  not  been  silent.  Many  of  you  who  hear  me 
are  my  witnesses — the  walls  of  yonder  temple,  where  I  have  here- 
tofore addressed  you,  are  my  witnesses,  how  freely  I  have  animad- 
verted on  this  subject,  in  the  presence  both  of  those  who  have 
violated  the  laws,  and  of  those  whose  indispensable  duty  it  is  to  see 
the  laws  executed  on  those  who  violate  them. 

I  enjoy  another  opportunity  ;  and  would  to  God  I  might  be 
permitted  to  approach  for  once  the  late  scene  of  death  !  Would 
to  God  I  could  there  assemble,  on  the  one  side,  the  disconsolate 
mother  with  her  seven  fatherless  children,  and  on  the  other  those 
who  administer  the  justice  of  my  country  !  Could  I  do  this,  I 
would  point  them  to  these  sad  objects.  I  would  entreat  them,  by 
the  agonies  of  bereaved  fondness,  to  listen  to  the  widow's  heartfelt 
groans  ;  to  mark  the  orphans'  sighs  and  tears.  And  having  done 
this,  I  would  uncover  the  breathless  corpse  of  Hamilton — I  would 
lift  from  his  gaping  wound  his  bloody  mantle — I  would  hold  it  up 
to  heaven  before  them,  and  I  would  ask,  in  the  name  of  God,  I 
would  ask,  whether  at  the  sight  of  it  they  felt  no  compunction. 


26  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

You  will  ask,  perhaps,  what  can  be  done  to  arrest  the  progress 
of  a  practice  which  has  yet  so  many  advocates  ?  I  answer,  noth- 
ing— if  it  be  the  deliberate  intention  to  do  nothing.  But  if 
otherwise,  much  is  within  our  power.  Let,  then,  the  governor 
see  that  the  laws  are  executed — let  the  council  displace  the  man 
who  offends  against  their  majesty.  Let  courts  of  justice  frown 
from  their  bar,  as  unworthy  to  appear  before  them,  the  murderer 
and  his  accomplices.  Let  the  people  declare  him  unworthy  of 
their  confidence  who  engages  in  such  sanguinary  contests.  Let 
this  be  done  ;  and  should  life  still  be  taken  in  single  combat, 
then  the  governor,  the  council,  the  court,  the  people,  looking  up 
to  the  Avenger  of  sin,  may  say,  "  We  are  innocent — we  are  inno- 
cent." Do  you  ask  how  proof  can  be  obtained?  How  can  it 
be  avoided  ?  The  parties  return,  hold  up  before  our  eyes  the  in- 
struments of  death,  publish  to  the  world  the  circumstances  of  their 
interview,  and  even,  with  an  air  of  insulting  triumph,  boast  how 
coolly  and  how  deliberately  they  proceeded  in  violating  one  of  the 
most  sacred  laws  of  earth  and  heaven. 

Ah,  ye  tragic  shores  of  Hoboken  !  crimsoned  with  the  richest 
blood,  1  tremble  at  the  crimes  you  record  against  us — the  annual 
register  of  murders  which  you  keep  and  send  up  to  God  !  Place 
of  inhuman  cruelty,  beyond  the  limits  of  reason,  of  duty,  and  of 
religion,  where  man  assumes  a  more  barbarous  nature,  and  ceases 
to  be  man,  what  poignant,  lingering  sorrows  do  thy  lawless 
combats  occasion  to  surviving  relatives  !  Ye  who  have  hearts  of 
pity — ye  who  have  experienced  the  anguish  of  dissolving  friend- 
ship— who  have  wept,  and  still  weep,  over  the  mouldering  ruins  of 
departed  kindred,  ye  can  enter  into  this  reflection. 

O  thou  disconsolate  widow  !  robbed,  so  cruelly  robbed,  and 
in  so  short  a  time,  both  of  a  husband  and  a  son,  what  must  be 
the  plenitude  of  thy  sufferings  !  Could  we  approach  thee,  gladly 
would  we  drop  the  tear  of  sympathy,  and  pour  into  thy  bleeding 
bosom  the  balm  of  consolation.  But  how  could  we  comfort  her 
whom  God  hath  not  comforted  !  To  His  throne  let  us  lift  up 
our  voice  and  weep.  O  God  !  if  thou  art  still  the  widow's  hus- 
band, and  the  father  of  the  fatherless — if  in  the  fulness  of  thy  good- 
ness, there  be  yet  mercies  in  store  for  miserable  mortals,  pity,  O 
pity  this  afflicted  mother,  and  grant  that  her  hapless  orphans  may 
find  a  friend,  a  benefactor,  a  father,  in  Thee  ! 


THE  FALL    OF  HAMILTON.  27 

On  this  article  I  have  done  :  and  may  God  add  His  blessing. 
But  I  have  still  a  claim  upon  your  patience.  I  cannot  here  re- 
press my  feelings,  and  thus  let  pass  the  present  opportunity. 

How  are  the  mighty  f alien  !  And  regardless  as  we  are  of  vulgar 
deaths,  shall  not  the  fall  of  the  mighty  affect  us  ?  A  short  time 
since,  and  he  who  is  the  occasion  of  our  sorrows  was  the  orna- 
ment of  his  country.  He  stood  on  an  eminence,  and  glory  cov- 
ered him.  From  that  eminence  he  has  fallen  —suddenly,  forever 
fallen.  His  intercourse  with  the  living  world  is  now  ended  ;  and 
those  who  would  hereafter  find  him  must  seek  him  in  the  grave. 
There,  cold  and  lifeless,  is  the  heart  which  just  now  was  the  seat 
of  friendship.  There,  dim  and  sightless,  is  the  eye  whose  radiant 
and  enlivening  orb  beamed  with  intelligence  ;  and  there,  closed 
forever,  are  those  lips  on  whose  persuasive  accents  we  have  so 
often  and  so  lately  hung  with  transport. 

From  the  darkness  which  rests  upon  his  tomb  there  proceeds, 
methinks,  a  light  in  which  it  is  clearly  seen  that  those  gaudy 
objects  which  men  pursue  are  only  phantoms.  In  this  light  how 
dimly  shines  the  splendor  of  victory — how  humble  appears  the 
majesty  of  grandeur  !  The  bubble  which  seemed  to  have  so  much 
solidity  has  burst,  and  we  again  see  that  all  below  the  sun  is  van- 
ity. True,  the  funeral  eulogy  has  been  pronounced.  The  sad 
and  solemn  procession  has  moved.  The  badge  of  mourning  has 
already  been  decreed,  and  presently  the  sculptured  marble  will 
lift  up  its  front,  proud  to  perpetuate  the  name  of  Hamilton,  and 
rehearse  to  the  passing  traveller  his  virtues.  Just  attributes  of  re- 
spect !  And  to  the  living  useful.  But  to  him,  mouldering  in  his 
narrow  and  humble  habitation,  what  are  they  ?  How  vain  !  how 
unavailing  ! 

Approach  and  behold,  while  I  lift  from  his  sepulchre  its  cover- 
ing. Ye  admirers  of  his  greatness,  ye  emulous  of  his  talents  and 
his  fame,  approach,  and  behold  him  now.  How  pale  !  How 
silent  !  No  martial  bands  admire  the  adroitness  of  his  move- 
ments. No  fascinated  throng  weep,  and  melt,  and  tremble  at 
his  eloquence.  Amazing  change  !  A  shroud  !  a  coffin  !  a  nar- 
row subterraneous  cabin  !  This  is  all  that  now  remains  of  Hamil- 
ton !  And  is  this  all  that  remains  of  him  ?  During  a  life  so 
transitory,  what  lasting  monument,  then,  can  our  fondest  hopes 
erect  ? 


28  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

My  brethren,  we  stand  on  the  borders  of  an  awful  gulf,  which 
is  swallowing  up  all  things  human.  And  is  there,  amid  this  uni- 
versal wreck,  nothing  stable,  nothing  abiding,  nothing  immortal, 
on  which  poor,  frail,  dying  man  can  fasten  ?  Ask  the  hero,  ask 
the  statesman,  whose  wisdom  you  have  been  accustomed  to  revere, 
and  he  will  tell  you.  He  will  tell  you,  did  I  say  ?  He  has 
already  told  you,  from  his  death-bed,  and  his  illumined  spirit  still 
whispers  from  the  heavens  with  well-known  eloquence,  the  sol- 
emn admonition,  "  Mortals,  hastening  to  the  tomb,  and  once  the 
companions  of  my  pilgrimage,  take  warning,  and  avoid  my  errors. 
Cultivate  the  virtues  I  have  recommended.  Choose  the  Saviour 
I  have  chosen.  Live  disinterestedly.  Live  for  immortality  ;  and 
would  you  rescue  anything  from  final  dissolution,  lay  it  up  in 
God." 

Thus  speaks,  methinks,  our  deceased  benefactor  ;  and  thus  he 
acted  during  his  last  sad  hours.  To  the  exclusion  of  every  other 
concern,  religion  now  claims  all  his  thoughts.  Jesus  !  Jesus  is 
now  his  only  hope.  The  friends  of  Jesus  are  his  friends.  The 
ministers  of  the  altar  his  companions.  While  these  intercede  he 
listens  in  awful  silence,  or  in  profound  submission  whispers  his 
assent.  Sensible,  deeply  sensible  of  his  sins,  he  pleads  no  merit  of 
his  own.  He  repairs  to  the  mercy-seat,  and  there  pours  out  his 
penitential  sorrows — there  he  solicits  pardon.  Heaven,  it  should 
seem,  heard  and  pitied  the  suppliant's  cries.  Disburdened  of  his 
sorrows,  and  looking  up  to  God,  he  exclaims,  ' '  Grace,  rich 
grace  !"  "I  have,"  said  he,  clasping  his  dying  hands,  and  with 
a  faltering  tongue,  "  I  have  a  tender  reliance  on  the  mercy  of 
God  in  Christ."  In  token  of  this  reliance,  and  as  an  expression 
of  his  faith,  he  receives  the  holy  sacrament.  And  having  done 
this,  his  mind  becomes  tranquil  and  serene.  Thus  he  remains, 
thoughtful  indeed,  but  unruffled  to  the  last,  and  meets  death  with 
an  air  of  dignified  composure,  and  with  an  eye  directed  to  the 
heavens. 

This  last  act,  more  than  any  other,  sheds  glory  on  his  character. 
Everything  else  death  effaces.  Religion  alone  abides  with  him  on 
his  death-bed.  He  dies  a  Christian.  This  is  all  which  can  be 
enrolled  of  him  among  the  archives  of  eternity.  This  is  all  that 
can  make  his  name  great  in  heaven.  Let  not  the  sneering  infidel 
persuade  you  that  this  last  act  of  homage  to  the  Saviour  resulted 


THE  FALL    OF  HAMILTON.  29 

from  an  enfeebled  state  of  mental  faculties,  or  from  perturbation 
occasioned  by  the  near  approach  of  death.  No  ;  his  opinions 
concerning  the  divine  mission  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  validity  of 
the  holy  Scriptures,  had  long  been  settled,  and  settled  after  labori- 
ous investigation  and  extensive  and  deep  research.  These  opin- 
ions were  not  concealed.  I  knew  them  myself.  Some  of  you 
who  hear  me  knew  them.  And  had  his  life  been  spared,  it  was 
his  determination  to  have  published  them  to  the  world,  together 
with  the  facts  and  reasons  on  which  they  were  founded. 

At  a  time  when  scepticism,  shallow  and  superficial  indeed,  but 
depraved  and  malignant,  is  breathing  forth  its  pestilential  vapor, 
and  polluting,  by  its  unhallowed  touch,  everything  divine  and 
sacred,  it  is  consoling  to  a  devout  mind  to  reflect  that  the  great, 
and  the  wise,  and  the  good  of  all  ages — those  superior  geniuses, 
whose  splendid  talents  have  elevated  them  almost  above  mortality, 
and  placed  them  next  in  order  to  angelic  natures  ;  yes,  it  is  con- 
soling to  a  devout  mind  to  reflect,  that  while  dwarfish  infidelity  lifts 
up  its  deformed  head  and  mocks,  these  illustrious  personages, 
though  living  in  different  ages,  inhabiting  different  countries,  nur- 
tured in  different  schools,  destined  to  different  pursuits,  and  differ- 
ing on  various  subjects,  should  all,  as  if  touched  with  an  impulse 
from  heaven,  agree  to  vindicate  the  sacredness  of  revelation,  and 
present,  with  one  accord,  their  learning,  their  talents,  and  their 
virtue,  on  the  gospel  altar,  as  an  offering  to  Emanuel. 

This  is  not  exaggeration.  Who  was  it,  that,  overleaping  the 
narrow  bounds  which  had  hitherto  been  set  to  the  human  mind, 
ranged  abroad  through  the  immensity  of  space,  discovered  and  il- 
lustrated those  laws  by  which  the  Deity  unites,  binds,  and  governs 
all  things  ?  Who  was  it,  soaring  into  the  sublime  of  astronomic 
science,  numbered  the  stars  of  heaven,  measured  their  spheres,  and 
called  them  by  their  names  ?  It  was  Newton.  But  Newton  was 
a  Christian.  Newton,  great  as  he  was,  received  instruction  from 
the  lips,  and  laid  his  honors  at  the  feet  of  Jesus.  Who  was  it  that 
developed  the  hidden  combination,  the  component  parts  of  bodies  ? 
Who  was  it  that  dissected  the  animal,  examined  the  flower,  pene- 
trated the  earth,  and  ranged  the  extent  of  organic  nature  ?  It  was 
Boyle.  But  Boyle  was  a  Christian.  Who  was  it  that  lifted  the 
veil  which  had  for  ages  covered  the  intellectual  world,  analyzed  the 
human  mind,    defined  its  powers,  and  reduced  its  operations  to 


3o  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

certain  fixed  laws  ?  It  was  Locke.  But  Locke,  too,  was  a  Chris- 
tian. 

What  more  shall  I  say  ?  For  time  would  fail  me  to  speak  of 
Hale,  learned  in  the  law  ;  of  Addison,  admired  in  the  schools  ; 
of  Milton,  celebrated  among  the  poets  ;  and  of  Washington,  im- 
mortal in  the  field  and  in  the  cabinet.  To  this  catalogue  of  pro- 
fessing Christians,  from  among,  if  I  may  speak  so,  a  higher  order 
of  beings,  may  now  be  added  the  name  of  Alexander  Hamilton 
— a  name  which  raises  in  the  mind  the  idea  of  whatever  is  great, 
whatever  is  splendid,  whatever  is  illustrious  in  human  nature,  and 
which  is  now  added  to  a  catalogue  which  might  be  lengthened — 
and  lengthened — and  lengthened*  with  the  names  of  illustrious 
characters,  whose  lives  have  blessed  society,  and  whose  works  form 
a  column  big  as  heaven — a  column  of  learning,  of  wisdom,  and  of 
greatness,  which  will  stand  to  future  ages,  an  eternal  monument 
of  the  transcendent  talents  of  the  advocates  of  Christianity,  when 
every  fugitive  leaf  from  the  pen  of  the  canting  infidel  witlings  of 
the  day  shall  be  swept  by  the  tide  of  time  from  the  annals  of  the 
world,  and  buried  with  the  names  of  their  authors  in  oblivion. 

To  conclude.  How  are  the  mighty  fallen  /  Fallen  before  the 
desolating  hand  of  death.  Alas  !  the  ruins  of  the  tomb  !  .  .  . 
The  ruins  of  the  tomb  are  an  emblem  of  the  ruins  of  the  world  ! 
When  not  an  individual,  but  a  universe,  already  marred  by  sin, 
and  hastening  to  dissolution,  shall  agonize  and  die  !  Directing 
your  thoughts  from  the  one,  fix  them  for  a  moment  on  the  other. 
Anticipate  the  concluding  scene — the  final  catastrophe  of  nature. 
When  the  sign  of  the  Son  of  man  shall  be  seen  in  heaven.  When 
the  Son  of  man  himself  shall  appear  in  the  glory  of  his  Father, 
and  send  forth  judgment  unto  victory.  The  fiery  desolation 
envelops  towns,  palaces,  and  fortresses.  The  heavens  pass  away  ! 
The  earth  melts  !  And  all  those  magnificent  productions  of  art, 
which  ages,  heaped  on  ages,  have  reared  up,  are  in  one  awful  day 
reduced  to  ashes  ! 

Against  the  ruins  of  that  da)',  as  well  as  the  ruins  of  the  tomb 
which  precede  it,  the  gospel  in  the  cross  of  its  great  High  Priest 
offers  you  all  a  sanctuary.  A  sanctuary  secure  and  abiding.  A 
sanctuary  which  no  lapse  of  time  nor  change  of  circumstances 
can  destroy.  No  ;  neither  life  nor  death  ;  no,  neither  principali- 
ties nor  powers.      Everything  else  is  fugitive  ;  everything  else  is 


CONSOLATION  IN  CHRIST.  31 

mutable  ;  everything  else  will  fail  you.  But  this,  the  citadel  of 
the  Christian's  hopes,  will  never  fail  you.  Its  base  is  adamant. 
It  is  cemented  with  the  richest  blood.  The  ransomed  of  the 
Lord  crowd  its  portals.  Embosomed  in  the  dust  which  it  in- 
closes, the  bodies  of  the  redeemed  "  rest  in  hope."  On  its  top 
dwells  the  church  of  the  first-born,  who,  in  delightful  response 
with  the  angels  of  light,  chant  redeeming  love.  Against  this 
citadel  the  tempest  beats,  and  around  it  the  storm  rages  and 
spends  its  force  in  vain.  Immortal  in  its  nature,  and  incapable 
of  change,  it  stands,  and  stands  firm  amid  the  ruins  of  a  moulder- 
ing world,  and  endures  forever.  Thither  fly,  ye  prisoners  of 
hope  !  that  when  earth,  air,  elements,  shall  have  passed  away, 
secure  of  existence  and  felicity,  you  may  join  with  saints  in  glory 
to  perpetuate  the  song  which  lingered  on  the  faltering  tongue  of 
Hamilton,  "Grace,  rich  Grace. " 

God  grant  us  this  honor.      Then  shall  the  measure  of  our  joy 
be  full,  and  to  His  name  shall  be  the  glory  in  Christ.     Amen. 


CONSOLATION  IN  CHRIST. 

BY  CHRISTIAN  E.    LUTHARDT,    D.D.,    LEIPSIC. 
[From  the  German.] 

And  as  it  is  appointed  unto  men  once  to  die,  but  after  this  the  judgment  : 
so  Christ  was  once  offered  to  bear  the  sins  of  many ;  and  unto  them  that 
look  for  Him  shall  He  appear  the  second  time  without  sin  unto  salvation. — 
Hebrews  ix.  27,  28. 

"It  is  appointed  unto  men  once  to  die,  and  after  this  cometh 
judgment."  These  are  words  of  solemn  import,  and  they  fall 
heavily  upon  our  heart.  Death  is  the  law  of  our  life  ;  we  cannot 
by  any  means  evade  or  resist  it.  "It  is  appointed  unto  men," 
unto  all  men  as  sons  of  Adam.  For  by  one  man  sin  entered  into 
the  world,  and  death  by  sin.  This  once  dying  closes  our  earthly 
life,  and  after  it  comes  judgment.  Every  word  falls  like  the  blow 
of  a  hammer  on  our  souls. 

The  lamentation  over  death,  and  the  transitoriness  of  earthly 
things,   is  the  oldest  and  the  commonest  of  all.      "  All  flesh  is 


32  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

grass,  and  all  the  glory  of  man  as  the  flower  of  grass.  The  grass 
withereth,  the  flower  fadeth."  This  is  the  moan  of  every  age. 
All  that  is  good  and  bright — greatness,  power,  riches,  honor, 
beauty,  life,  wisdom,  knowledge — all  passes  away.  The  wail  over 
the  first  death  has  not  come  down  to  us,  but  our  hearts  can  pict- 
ure the  stony  anguish  in  which  our  first  parents  gazed  on  the  white 
face  of  their  dead  son,  and  realized  that  the  life  was  fled.  And 
ever  since  the  air  has  been  "  full  of  farewells  to  the  dying  and 
mournings  for  the  dead  ;"  the  old  pain  is  ever  new,  and  we  our- 
selves see  the  ' '  shadow  feared  of  men' '  drawing  daily  nearer. 

Our  whole  life  is  thus  under  the  law  of  evanescence.  Merry 
youth  passes  into  the  stern  struggle  of  manhood  and  the  weakness 
of  old  age.  And  what  remains  ?  One  after  another  we  bury  the 
hopes  of  youth,  the  thoughts  of  later  years,  our  wishes,  joys,  and, 
last  of  all,  our  loves.  How  full  are  those  graves  of  all  that  made 
life  dear  ! 

Our  thoughts  wander  away  now  to  days  of  bygone  happiness, 
and  our  hearts  cry, 

"O  for  the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand, 
And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still." 

We  think  of  quiet  graves  where,  it  may  be,  we  have  sadly  laid  gray 
and  honored  heads,  old  men  full  of  life  and  full  of  labors,  but 
careworn  and  weary,  to  whom  death  was  a  welcome  messenger. 
There  is  much  to  soothe  our  sorrow  when  men  die  after  a  long 
day  of  life  well  spent.  And  yet  how  little,  at  the  largest,  is  the 
work  we  any  of  us  do,  compared  to  that  which  we  had  hoped  and 
planned  and  purposed  !  And  what  is  all  the  love  we  have  en- 
joyed or  given,  to  the  blank  which  it  leaves  behind  ? 

Then  we  have  buried  not  the  old  alone,  but  the  young  in  the 
blossom  of  their  years,  the  morning  of  their  life,  bright  with  hope 
and  promise.  What  a  wealth  of  parental  love,  love  of  brothers 
and  sisters  and  sweet  friends,  what  hopes  for  the  fatherland  may 
be  covered  by  one  little  mound  of  earth  ! 

"There  is  a  reaper  whose  name  is  Death  ;"  he  reaps  for  the 
Lord  of  the  harvest,  and  he  reaps  all  over  the  field.  "  All  flesh 
is  grass,  and  all  the  glory  of  man  as  the  flower  of  the  grass.  The 
grass  withereth,  the  flower  fadeth."  "  It  is  appointed  unto  men 
once  to  die."     //  is  appointed.      "  What  means  our  trembling  soul 


CONSOLATION  IN  CHRIST.  33 

to  be  thus  shy  of  death  ?"  Sorrowfully,  indeed,  but  without  pain, 
we  see  the  flowers  fade  and  the  rose-leaves  flutter  to  the  ground. 
But  man  is  more  than  a  flower.  We  see  the  beasts  die,  not  with- 
out pity  for  them,  and  a  natural  sorrow  for  their  suffering.  We 
know  this  is  their  destiny.  But  man  is  more  than  a  beast.  That 
he  should  die  strikes  us  with  a  sense  of  sympathetic  awe.  Life  is 
ever  pointing  man  on  to  the  future  ;  each  step  leads  to  another — 
youth  to  manhood,  manhood  to  old  age,  and  at  length  death 
comes  in  and  breaks  the  chain.  No  life  fulfils  itself  to  its  utmost ; 
it  seems  broken  off  even  at  the  longest.  This  is  what  makes  us 
shudder.  Death  is  so  merciless.  We  feel  it  is  a  judgment. 
"  All  our  days  are  passed  away  in  Thy  wrath  ;  we  spend  our  years 
as  a  tale  that  is  told. ' '  This  song,  a  thousand  years  old,  is  as 
true  to-day  as  ever.  "It  is  appointed  unto  man," — this  is  the 
doom  hanging  over  him.  Death  is  a  judgment  of  God.  We  feel 
it  to  be  so,  and  oh  !  how  hard  man  often  wrestles  against  it  ;  how 
life  contends  with  death  !  And  even  when  it  is  not  so,  when  the 
fair  and  beautiful  "  life  is  rounded  with  asleep,"  yet  how  one 
moment  effaces  all  !  It  is  gone  !  What  was  it,  after  all  ?  And 
what  will  it  be?  "  It  is  appointed  unto  men  once  to  die,  and 
after  this  cometh  judgment."  Death  does  not  end  all  ;  this  we 
know.  We  leave  this  world  and  enter  on  another.  What  is  that 
then  ?  A  world  of  stillness,  where  the  voices  of  life  are  silent ; 
all  the  ten  thousand  voices  of  the  busy  mart  and  the  loud,  striving 
tide  of  men,  which  were  wont  to  be  so  loud  in  our  ears  that  we 
could  not  hear  the  still,  small  voice  within — all  these  will  be 
silenced,  and  the  inward  voice  alone  will  speak  audibly.  And 
what  will  it  say  ?  What  will  be  the  verdict  of  those  thoughts  of 
ours  which  accuse  or  excuse  one  another  ?  There  will  be  no  more 
self-deception  then.  We  enter  on  a  world  of  realities,  where  all 
shams  and  shows  are  done  away,  where  we  appear  before  God 
Himself,  not  as  we  appear  to  our  fellow-men  here,  not  perhaps 
even  as  we  appeared  to  ourselves.  All  the  cloaks  in  which  we 
were  wont  to  wrap  ourselves  fall  away  ;  for  there  is  no  creature 
that  is  not  naked  and  open  before  Him  with  whom  we  have  to 
do.  Who  shall  abide  that  searching  gaze  ?  God  will  make  mani- 
fest the  secrets  of  all  hearts,  and  pronounce  His  sentence  upon 
us  ;  He  will  render  to  every  man  according  to  his  works.  There 
will  be  no  time  then  to  form  resolves  of  improvement.      It  will  be 


34  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

too  late  ;  now  is  the  time  for  that.  This  life  is  the  time  appointed 
for  us  to  turn  to  God.  For  this  end  is  His  Word  given  us,  and 
all  the  means  of  grace  by  which  He  would  educate  us  in  this  life. 
What  is  put  off  here,  cannot  be  done  there.  "  It  is  appointed 
unto  men  once  to  die,  and  after  this  cometh  judgment."  Who 
shall  stand  ?  There  are  even  among  our  fellow-men  eyes  that 
seem  to  search  out  the  very  secrets  of  our  soul.  But  what  are 
human  eyes  to  those  eyes  which  shall  be  fixed  upon  us  by  and 

by? 

"  That  I  the  chief  of  sinners  am, 
Thou  art  the  witness,  Lord  ; 
When  questioned  on  the  judgment-day 
I  will  not  speak  one  word." 

If  we  meditate  much  on  these  things,  if  we  let  them  take 
possession  of  our  minds,  they  must  overwhelm  us,  unless  we 
believe  in  the  mercy  of  God  unto  eternal  life.  I  confess  I  can- 
not understand  the  self-deception  of  those  who  live  here  on  earth 
a  life  which  they  know  ends  in  death  and  the  judgment,  and  yet 
think  they  can  do  without  the  mercy  of  God.  Where  will  they 
sink  to,  if,  when  death  comes,  they  do  not  fall  into  the  arms  of 
God's  mercy  outstretched  to  them  in  Jesus  Christ,  where  alone 
help  and  safety  are  found  in  the  hour  of  death  and  in  the  day  of 
judgment  ? 

We  rejoice  in  the  sure  consolation  we  have  in  Christ,  which 
should  banish  the  fear  of  death.  We  need  a  strong  consolation 
in  view  of  death,  one  which  can  bear  the  strain  of  that  dark  hour 
when  the  accuser  of  souls  is  so  busy.  Without  this  whither  shall 
we  turn  for  comfort  ?  We  may  put  away  the  thought  of  death, 
we  may  try  to  forget  that  which  we  cannot  alter,  but  he  will  come 
upon  us  as  an  armed  man,  and  where  then  is  our  defence  ?  We 
may  cover  the  grave  with  flowers,  but  the  worm  is  there  and  the 
flowers  fade.  Death  is  the  abyss  which  divides  this  life  from 
another,  and  we  cannot  bridge  an  abyss  with  flowers.  He  who 
does  not  know  the  arm  that  can  guide  him  safely  across  must 
linger  shivering  on  the  brink,  till  the  inevitable  moment  comes, 
and  he  is  swallowed  up  of  the  deep  waters,  without  help  and  with- 
out hope.  Without  hope  !  this  is  the  latest  wisdom  which  the 
gospel  of  despair  proclaims  ;  and  holding  fast  to  this  as  its  ultima- 
tum, it  declares  it  had  been  better  for  a  man  had  he  never  been 


CONSOLATION  IN  CHRIST.  35 

born.  And,  indeed,  if  this  is  its  final  utterance,  life  is  not  worth 
the  living,  and  the  sooner  we  find  a  way  of  escape  from  it  the 
better. 

But  we  turn  instinctively  from  this  gospel  of  death.  Where 
then  shall  we  seek  comfort  ?  Has  human  wisdom  any  balm  for 
us  ?  Alas  !  its  well-meant  utterances  never  reach  the  mark  ;  they 
flutter  to  the  ground  like  autumn  leaves  in  the  evening  wind. 
Shall  we  take  comfort  in  our  own  uprightness,  duty  doing,  faith- 
fulness to  our  calling?  Alas  !  our  good  works  flare  away  like  so 
much  tinder  in  the  fire  when  we  stand  before  God.  "All  our 
righteousnesses  are  as  filthy  rags,  and  our  iniquities,  like  the  wind, 
have  carried  us  away."  To  whom  then  shall  we  turn  for  help? 
To  God  alone  !  Oh,  Almighty  Lord,  and  everlasting  God,  pre- 
serve us,  body  and  soul,  unto  everlasting  life,  through  our  Lord 
and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  ! 

"  As  it  is  appointed  unto  men  once  to  die,  and  after  th's  Com- 
eth judgment,  so  Christ  also,  having  been  once  offered  to  bear  the 
sins  of  many,  shall  appear  a  second  time,  apart  from  sin,  to  them 
that  wait  for  Him  unto  salvation.  " 

This  is  our  comfort.  It  is  a  wonderful  message  which  the 
Christian  faith  brings  to  us,  when  it  teaches  us  that  God,  the  Lord 
Himself,  stooped  from  His  throne  in  heaven  to  clothe  Himself  in 
our  flesh  and  blood,  to  become  one  of  us,  and  trod  the  pathway 
of  death,  and  in  His  inmost  soul  tasted  death  for  every  man. 
Truly  a  wonderful  message  !  That  God  should  manifest  Himself 
in  His  glory,  were  easy  to  understand.  But  that  He  should  take 
upon  Him  such  a  body  of  humiliation,  and  humble  Himself  even 
to  the  death  of  the  Cross,  this  is  above  our  thoughts  and  ways  as 
high  as  the  heaven  is  above  the  earth.  It  is  so  wonderful  a  mes- 
sage that  we  might  well  hesitate  to  believe  it,  but  to  those  who  do 
believe  it  brings  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory.  And  we  know 
that- it  is  true.  Is  not  love  the  highest  attribute  of  God— higher 
than  power  or  wisdom  ?  So  the  deed  of  the  highest  love  is  the 
most  divine.  "  Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this,"  said  the 
Lord  Himself,  "  that  a  man  should  lay  down  his  life  for  his 
friends.  But  God  commendeth  His  love  toward  us,  in  that  while 
we  were  yet  sinners,  Christ  died  for  us."  This  is  our  consolation. 
If  our  thoughts  should  turn  to  the  grave,  let  us  repair  first  of  all, 
in  spirit,  to  the  grave  of  Jesus,  and  there  meditate  what  it  means 


36  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

for  us.  The  sermon  preached  to  us  by  that  grave  is  this  :  "  He 
died  for  our  sins  and  rose  again  for  our  justification. "  "  He  was 
once  offered  to  bear  the  sins  of  many. ' ' 

There  is  one  thing  which  can  help  us  alike  in  times  of  joy  and 
sorrow,  in  life  and  death  and  at  the  judgment :  this  is  the  for- 
giveness of  sins.  That  Christ  died  for  our  sins  will  be  our  all- 
sufficient  plea  when  God  reckons  with  us,  and  when  the  enemy  of 
souls  accuses  us.  "  The  sting  of  death  is  sin."  If  we  had  no 
sin  we  should  not  be  afraid  to  appear  before  God.  Therefore  for- 
giveness casts  out  the  fear,  and  takes  away  the  sting  of  death. 

A  dying  bed  is  a  solemn  place.  There  all  earthly  comforts  fail. 
We  must  have  something  stronger  to  hold  by.  What  can  we  say 
to  the  weeping  parents  who  see  their  child's  last  hour  at  hand  ? 
What  shall  we  say  to  the  husband,  when  the  last  look  of  love  falls 
on  him  from  the  fast  dimming  eyes  of  the  dying  wife  ?  Every 
earthly  prop  breaks  with  a  crash  in  such  an  hour,  and  pierces 
through  the  hand  that  leans  on  it.  One  only  pillar  bears — the 
everlasting  love  and  faithfulness  of  our  God  and  Saviour.  "  I 
have  redeemed  thee,  I  have  called  thee  by  my  name  ;  thou  art 
mine."  When  we  can  commit  our  dying  ones  into  the  hands  of 
God  and  say,  "  For  them  Christ  died  ;  for  their  sin  He  atoned 
on  the  Cross  ;  He  has  found  eternal  redemption  for  them  ;"  then 
we  can  be  still  and  know  that  He  is  God.  Just  as  there  is  noth- 
ing so  dark  as  a  death-bed  without  hope  ;  so  there  is  nothing 
more  blessed  than  to  watch  a  soul  departing  in  peace,  because  it 
has  seen  the  Lord's  salvation. 

We  all  know  how  memory  is  wont  to  be  quickened  as  the  end 
draws  near  ;  how  the  conscience  wakes  to  new  sensitiveness,  and 
the  old  sins  start  up  before  the  soul  in  awful  vividness.  How 
shall  we  dare  to  pass  into  the  presence  of  God,  if  we  have  not 
heard  the  words,  "  Go  in  peace,  thy  sins  be  forgiven  thee  ;"  if  we 
do  not  know  that  our  debt  is  cancelled  ?  There,  on  the  Cross, 
the  handwriting  that  is  against  us  is  blotted  out. 

Our  hope  !  He  who  was  once  offered  to  take  away  sin  by  the 
sacrifice  of  Himself,  will  appear  again,  apart  from  sin,  unto  salva- 
tion for  those  who  wait  for  Him.  He  will  come  again,  not  to 
atone  —that  is  forever  done — but  to  bless  with  salvation.  This  is 
our  hope.  By  one  man  sin  came  into  the  world,  and  death  by 
sin  ;  and  by  the  new  Man  Christ  Jesus  have  come  righteousness 


CHRIST  THE  DESTROYER   OF  DEATH  37 

and  life.  As  in  Adam  all  die,  so  in  Christ  shall  all  be  made  alive 
who  are  His.  There  is  a  resurrection  of  the  dead,  and  eternal 
life.  That  which  is  sown  in  corruption  is  raised  in  incorruption  ; 
sown  in  dishonor,  it  is  raised  in  glory  ;  sown  in  weakness,  it  is 
raised  in  power  ;  sown  a  natural  body,  it  is  raised  a  spiritual  body. 
"  He  will  come  again  unto  salvation  to  them  that  look  for  Him.'"' 
In  the  Book  of  the  Revelation  we  read,  "  I  heard  a  great  voice 
out  of  the  throne  saying,  Behold  the  tabernacle  of  God  is  with 
men,  and  He  shall  dwell  with  them,  and  they  shall  be  His  peo- 
ple, and  God  Himself  shall  be  with  them  and  be  their  God.  And 
He  shall  wipe  away  every  tear  from  their  eyes  ;  and  death  shall  be 
no  more  ;  neither  shall  there  be  mourning,  nor  crying,  nor  pain 
any  more  ;  the  first  things  are  passed  away.  And  He  that  sitteth 
on  the  throne  said,  Behold,  I  make  all  things  new.  And  He 
saith,  Write,  for  these  words  are  faithful  and  true."  This  is  our 
hope.  We  go  out  weeping,  bearing  precious  seed,  and  we  come 
again  with  joy,  bringing  our  sheaves  with  us.  Then  shall  we 
once  more  embrace  our  dear  ones,  with  whom  we  were  one  in 
faith  and  hope,  and  shall  be  united  with  them  all  in  one  great 
family  of  God.  Then  shall  we  delight  in  the  fellowship  of  proph- 
ets, patriarchs,  apostles,  most  of  all  of  Christ  Himself.  Then 
shall  we  hail  Him  whom  our  souls  love,  and  whose  we  are.  We 
shall  see  Him  who  hung  on  the  Cross  for  us,  and  now  ap- 
pears in  heaven  as  our  Forerunner,  our  royal  High  Priest.  And 
we  shall  live  with  Him  in  His  Kingdom,  and  serve  Him  in  ever- 
lasting righteousness  and  blessedness.     This  is  our  hope. 


CHRIST  THE  DESTROYER  OF  DEATH. 

BY    REV.    C.    H.    SPURGEON,    LONDON. 
The  last  enemy  that  shall  be  destroyed  is  death. — 1  CoR.  xv.  26. 

I.  Death  an  Enemy.  //  was  so  born,  even  as  Haman,  the 
Agagite,  was  the  enemy  of  Israel  by  his  descent.  Death  is  the 
child  of  our  direst  foe,  for  "  sin  when  it  is  finished  bringeth  forth 
death."  "  Sin  entered  into  the  world,  and  death  by  sin." 
Now,  that  which  is  distinctly  the  fruit  of  transgression,  cannot  be 


38  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 


y 

other  than  an  enemy  of  man.  Death  was  introduced  into  the 
world  on  that  gloomy  day  which  saw  our  fall,  and  he  that  had  the 
power  of  it  is  our  arch  enemy  and  betrayer,  the  devil  ;  from  both 
of  which  facts  we  must  regard  it  as  the  manifest  enemy  of  man. 
Death  is  an  alien  in  this  world  ;  it  did  not  enter  into  the  original 
design  of  the  unfallen  creation  ;  but  its  intrusion  mars  and  spoils 
the  whole.  It  is  no  part  of  the  Great  Shepherd's  flock,  but  it  is 
a  wolf  which  cometh  to  kill  and  to  destroy.  Geology  tells  us  that 
there  was  death  among  the  various  forms  of  life  from  the  first  ages 
of  the  globe's  history,  even  when  as  yet  the  world  was  not  fitted  up 
as  the  dwelling  of  man.  This  I  can  believe,  and  still  regard  death 
as  the  result  of  sin.  If  it  can  be  proved  that  there  is  such  an  or- 
ganic unity  between  man  and  the  lower  animals,  that  they  would 
not  have  died  if  Adam  had  not  sinned,  then  I  see  in  those  deaths 
before  Adam  the  antecedent  consequences  of  a  sin  which  was  then 
uncommitted.  If  by  the  merits  of  Jesus  there  was  salvation  before 
He  had  offered  His  atoning  sacrifice,  I  do  not  find  it  hard  to  con- 
ceive that  the  foreseen  demerits  of  sin  may  have  cast  the  shadow  of 
death  over  the  long  ages  which  came  before  man's  transgression. 
Of  that  we  know  little,  nor  is  it  important  that  we  should  know 
/  much  ;  but  certain  is  it,  that  as  far  as  this  present  creation  is  con- 
cerned, death  is  not  God's  invited  guest,  but  an  intruder,  whose 
presence  mars  the  feast.  Man,  in  his  folly,  welcomed  Satan  and 
sin  when  they  forced  their  way  into  the  high  festival  of  Paradise  ; 
but  he  never  welcomed  death  :  even  his  blind  eyes  could  see  in 

J  that  skeleton  form  a  cruel  foe.  As  the  lion  to  the  herds  of  the 
plain,  as  the  scythe  to  the  flowers  of  the  field,  as  the  wind  to  the 
sere  leaves  of  the  forest,  such  is  death  to  the  sons  of  men.     They 

v  fear  it  by  an  inward  instinct,  because  their  conscience  tells  them 
that  it  is  the  child  of  their  sin. 

•j  Death  is  well  called  an  enemy,  for  it  does  an  enemy  s  work 
toward  us.  ,  For  what  purpose  doth  an  enemy  come,  but  to  root 
up,  and  to  pull  down,  and  to  destroy  ?  Death  tears  in  pieces  that 
comely  handiwork  of  God,  the  fabric  of  the  human  body,  so  mar- 
vellously wrought  by  the  fingers  of  divine  skill.  Casting  this  rich 
embroidery  into  the  grave  among  the  armies  of  the  worm,  to  its 
fierce  soldiery  death  divideth  "  to  everyone  a  prey  of  divers  colors, 
of  divers  colors  of  needlework, ' '  and  they  ruthlessly  rend  in  pieces 
the  spoil.     This  building  of  our  manhood  is  a  house  fair  to  look 


CHRIST  THE  DESTROYER   OF  DEATH.  39 

upon,  but  death,  the  destroyer,  darkens  its  windows,  shakes  its 
pillars,  closes  its  doors,  and  causes  the  sound  of  the  grinding  to 
cease.  Then  the  daughters  of  music  are  brought  low,  and  the 
strong  men  bow  themselves.  This  vandal  spares  no  work  of  life, 
however  full  of  wisdom  or  beauty,  for  it  looseth  the  silver  cord 
and  breaketh  the  golden  bowl.  Lo  !  at  the  fountain  the  costly 
pitcher  is  utterly  broken,  and  at  the  cistern  the  well-wrought  wheel 
is  dashed  in  pieces  !  v  Death  is  a  fierce  invader  of  the  realms  of 
life,  and  where  it  comes  it  fells  every  good  tree,  stops  all  wells  of 
water,  and  mars  every  good  piece  of  land  with  stones.  See  you 
a  man  when  death  has  wrought  his  will  upon  him,  what  a  ruin  he 
is  !  How  is  his  beauty  turned  to  ashes,  and  his  comeliness  to 
corruption  !     Surely  an  enemy  hath  done  this. 

Look,  my  brethren,  at  the  course  of  death  throughout  all  ages 
and  in  all  lands.  '  What  field  is  there  without  its  grave  ?  What 
city  without  its  cemetery  ?  Whither  can  we  go  to  find  no  sepul- 
chres ?  As  the  sandy  shore  is  covered  with  the  upcastings  of  the 
worm,  so  art  thou,  O  earth  !  covered  with  those  grass-grown  hil- 
locks, beneath  which  sleep  the  departed  generations  of  men.  And 
thou,  O  sea,  even  thou  art  not  without  thy  dead  !  As  if  the  earth 
were  too  full  of  corpses,  and  they  jostled  each  other  in  their 
crowded  sepulchres,  even  into  thy  caverns,  O  mighty  main,  the 
bodies  of  the  dead  are  cast  !  Thy  waves  must  become  defiled  with 
the  carcasses  of  men,  and  on  thy  floor  must  lie  the  bones  of  the 
slain.  Our  enemy,  death,  has  marched,  as  it  were,  with  sword 
and  fire,  ravaging  the  human  race.  Neither  Goth  nor  Hun  nor 
Tartar  could  have  slain  so  universally  all  that  breathed,  for  death 
has  suffered  none  to  escape.  Everywhere  it  has  withered  house- 
hold joys  and  created  sorrow  and  sighing  ;  in  all  lands  where  the 
sun  is  seen  it  hath  blinded  men's  eyes  with  weeping.  The  tear 
of  the  bereaved,  the  wail  of  the  widow,  and  the  moan  of  the 
orphan — these  have  been  death's  war  music,  and  he  has  found 
therein  a  song  of  victory. 

The  greatest  conquerers  have  only  been  death's  slaughtermen, 
journeymen  butchers  working  in  his  shambles.  War  is  nothing 
better  than  death  holding  carnival,  and  devouring  his  prey  a  little 
more  in  haste  than  is  his  common  wont. 

Death  has  done  the  work  of  an  enemy  to  those  of  us  who  have  as 
yet  escaped  his  arrows.     Those  who  have  lately  stood  around  a  new- 


40  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

made  grave  and  buried  half  their  hearts,  can  tell  you  what  an 
*  enemy  death  is.  It  takes  the  friend  from  our  side,  and  the  child 
from  our  bosom  ;  neither  does  it  care  for  our  crying.  He  has 
V  fallen  who  was  the  pillar  of  the  household  ;  she  has  been  snatched 
away  who  was  the  brightness  of  the  hearth.  The  little  one  is  torn 
out  of  its  mother's  bosom,  though  it  almost  breaks  her  heart- 
v  strings  ;  and  the  blooming  youth  is  taken  from  his  father^s  side, 
though  the  parent's  fondest  hopes  are  thereby  crushed.  Death 
has  no  pity  for  the  young  and  no  mercy  for  the  old  ;  he  pays  no 
regard  to  the  good  or  to  the  beautiful.  His  scythe  cuts  down 
sweet  flowers  and  noxious  weeds  with  equal  readiness.  He  Com- 
eth into  our  garden,  trampleth  down  our  lilies,  and  scattereth  our 
roses  on  the  ground  ;  yea,  and  even  the  modest  flowers  planted  in 
the  corner,  and  hiding  their  beauty  beneath  the  leaves  that  they 
may  blush  unseen,  death  spieth  out  even  these,  and  cares  nothing 
for  their  fragrance,  but  withers  them  with  his  burning  breath.  He 
is  thine  enemy,  indeed,  thou  fatherless  child,  left  for  the  pitiless 
storm  of  a  cruel  world  to  beat  upon,  with  none  to  shelter  thee. 
He  is  thine  enemy,  O  widow  !  for  the  light  of  thy  life  is  gone, 
and  the  desire  of  thine  eyes  has  been  removed  with  a  stroke.  He 
is  thine  enemy,  husband,  for  thy  house  is  desolate,  and  thy  little 
children  cry  for  their  mother,  of  whom  death  has  robbed  thee  ! 

He  is  the  enemy  of  us  all,  for  what  head  of  a  family  among  us 
has  not  had  to  say  to  him,  "  Me  thou  hast  bereaved  again  and 
again  !"  Especially  is  death  an  enemy  to  the  living  when  he  in- 
vades God's  house  and  causes  the  prophet  and  the  priest  to  be 
numbered  with  the  dead.  The  church  mourns  when  her  most 
useful  ministers  are  smitten  down,  when  the  watchful  eye  is  closed 
in  darkness,  and  the  instructive  tongue  is  mute.  Yet  how  often 
does  death  thus  war  against  us  !  The  earnest,  the  active,  the  in- 
defatigable, are  taken  away.  Those  mightiest  in  prayer,  those 
most  affectionate  in  heart,  those  most  exemplary  in  life,  those  are 
cut  down  in  the  midst  of  their  labors,  leaving  behind  them  a 
church  which  needs  them  more  than  tongue  can  tell.  If  the  Lord 
does  but  threaten  to  permit  death  to  seize  a  beloved  pastor,  the 
souls  of  his  people  are  full  of  grief,  and  they  view  death  as  their 
worst  foe,  while  they  plead  with  the  Lord  and  entreat  Him  to  bid 
their  minister  live. 

Even  those  who  die  may  well  count  death  to  be  their  enemy  ;  I 


CHRIST  THE  DESTROYER   OF  DEATH.  41 

mean  not  now  that  they  have  risen  to  their  seats,  and,  as  disem- 
bodied spirits,  behold  the  King  in  His  beauty  ;  but  aforetime  while 
death  was  approaching  them.  He  seemed  to  their  trembling  flesh 
to  be  a  foe,  for  it  is  not  in  nature,  except  in  moments  of  extreme 
pain  or  aberration  of  mind,  or  of  excessive  expectation  of  glory, 
for  us  to  be  in  love  with  death.  It  was  wise  of  our  Creator  so  to 
constitute  us  that  the  soul  loves  the  body  and  the  body  loves  the 
soul,  and  they  desire  to  dwell  together  as  long  as  they  may,  else 
had  there  been  no  care  for  self-preservation,  and  suicide  would 
have  destroyed  the  race. 

"  For  who  would  bear  the  whips  and  scorns  of  time, 
The  oppressor's  wrong,  the  proud  man's  contumely, 
When  he  himself  might  his  quietus  make 
With  a  bare  bodkin  ?' ' 


S 


It  is  a  first  law  of  our  nature  that  skin  for  skin,  yea,  all  that  a 
man  hath,  will  he  give  for  his  life,  and  thus  we  are  nerved  to 
struggle  for  existence,  and  to  avoid  that  which  would  destroy  us. 
This  useful  instinct  renders  death  an  enemy,  but  it  also  aids  in 
keeping  us  from  that  crime  of  all  crimes  the  most  sure  of  damna- 
tion, if  a  man  commit  it  wilfully  and  in  his  sound  mind — I  mean 
the  crime  of  self-murder. 

When  death  cometh,  even  to  the  good  man,  he  cometh  as  an 
enemy,  for  he  is  attended  by  such  terrible  heralds  and  grim  out- 
riders as  do  greatly  scare  us. 

"  Fever  with  brow  of  fire  ; 
Consumption  wan  ;  palsy,  half-warmed  with  life, 
And  half  a  clay-cold  lump  ;  joint-torturing  gout, 
And  ever-gnawing  rheum  ;  convulsion  wild  ; 
Swoln  dropsy  ;  panting  asthma  ;  apoplex 
Full  gorged." 


None  of  these  add  to  the  aspect  of  death  a  particle  of  beauty. 
*  He  comes  with  pains  and  griefs  ;  he  comes  with  sighs  and  tears. 
Clouds  and  darkness  are  round  about  him,  an  atmosphere  laden 
with  dust  oppresses  those  whom  he  approaches,  and  a  cold  wind 
chills  them  even  to  the  marrow.  He  rides  on  the  pale  horse, 
and  where  his  steed  sets  its  foot  the  land  becomes  a  desert.  By 
the  footfall  of  that  terrible  steed,  the  worm  is  awakened  to  gnaw 
the  slain.      When  we  forget  other  grand  truths,  and  onlv  remem- 


42  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

ber  these  dreadful  things,    death   is  the  king  of  terrors  to  us. 
Hearts  are  sickened  and  reins  are  loosened,  because  of  him. 

But,  indeed,  he  is  an  enemy,  for  what  comes  he  to  do  to  our 
body  ?  I  know  he  doeth  that  which  ultimately  leadeth  to  its  bet- 
terness,  but  still  it  is  that  which,  in  itself  and  for  the  present,  is 
not  joyous,  but  grievous.  He  comes  to  take  the  light  from  the 
eyes,  the  hearing  from  the  ears,  the  speech  from  the  tongue,  the 
activity  from  the  hand,  and  the  thought  from  the  brain.  He 
comes  to  transform  a  living  man  into  a  mass  of  putrefaction,  to 
degrade  the  beloved  form  of  a  brother  and  friend  to  such  a  condi- 
tion of  corruption  that  affection  itself  cries  out,  "  Bury  my  dead 
out  of  my  sight."  Death,  thou  child  of  sin,  Christ  hath  trans- 
formed thee  marvellously,  but  in  thyself  thou  art  an  enemy  before 
whom  flesh  and  blood  tremble,  for  they  know  that  thou  art  the 
murderer  of  all  of  woman  born,  whose  thirst  for  human  prey  the 
blood  of   nations  cannot  slake. 

If  you  think  for  a  few  moments  of  this  enemy,  you  will  observe 
some  of  his  points  of  character.  He  is  the  common  foe  of  all 
God's  people,  and  the  enemy  of  all  men  ;  for  however  some  have 
been  persuaded  that  they  should  not  die,  yet  is  there  no  discharge 
in  this  war  ;  and  if  in  this  conscription  a  man  escapes  the  ballot 
many  and  many  a  year,  till  his  gray  beard  seems  to  defy  the 
winter's  hardest  frost,  yet  must  the  man  of  iron  yield  at  last.  It 
is  appointed  unto  all  men  once  to  die.  The  strongest  man  has 
no  elixir  of  eternal  life  wherewith  to  renew  his  youth  amid  the  de- 
cays of  age  ;  nor  has  the  wealthiest  prince  a  price  wherewith  to 
bribe  destruction.  To  the  grave  must  thou  descend,  O  crowned 
monarch  !  for  sceptres  and  shovels  are  akin.  To  the  sepulchre 
must  thou  go  down,  O  mighty  man  of  valor  !  for  sword  and 
spade  are  of  like  metal.  The  prince  is  brother  to  the  worm,  and 
must  dwell  in  the  same  house.  Of'  our  whole  race  it  is  true, 
"  Dust  thou  art,  and  unto  dust  shalt  thou  return." 

Death  is  also  a  subtle  foe,  lurking  everywhere,  even  in  the  most 
harmless  things.  Who  can  tell  where  Death  has  not  prepared  his 
ambuscades  ?  He  meets  us  both  at  home  and  abroad  ;  at  the 
table  he  assails  men  in  their  food,  and  at  the  fountain  he  poisons 
their  drink.  He  waylayeth  us  in  the  streets,  and  he  seizeth  us  in 
our  beds  ;  he  rideth  on  the  storm  at  sea,  and  he  walks  with  us 
when  we  are  on  our  way  upon  the  solid  land.     Whither  can  wre 


CHRIST  THE  DESTROYER   OF  DEATH.  43 

fly  to  escape  from  thee,  0  Death,  for  from  the  summit  of  the  Alps 
men  have  fallen  to  their  graves,  and  in  the  deep  places  of  the 
earth,  where  the  miner  goeth  down  to  find  the  precious  ore,  there 
hast  thou  sacrificed  many  a  hecatomb  of  precious  lives.  Death  is 
a  subtle  foe,  and  with  noiseless  footfalls  follows  close  at  our  heels 
when  least  we  think  of  him. 

He  is  an  enemy  whom  none  of  us  will  be  able  to  avoid,  take  what 
by-paths  we  may  ;  nor  can  we  escape  from  him  when  our  hour  is 
come.  Into  this  fowler's  nets,  like  the  birds,  we  shall  all  fly  ;  in 
his  great  seine  must  all  the  fishes  of  the  great  sea  of  life  be  taken 
when  their  day  is  come.  As  surely  as  sets  the  sun,  or  as  the  mid- 
night stars  at  length  descend  beneath  the  horizon,  or  as  the  waves 
sink  back  into  the  sea,  or  as  the  bubble  bursts,  so  must  we  all, 
early  or  late,  come  to  our  end,  and  disappear  from  earth,  to  be 
known  no  more  among  the  living. 

Sudden,  too,  full  often,  are  the  assaults  of  this  enemy. 

"  Leaves  have  their  time  to  fall. 
And  flowers  to  wither  at  the  north  wind's  breath, 

And  stars  to  set — but  all, 
Thou  hast  all  seasons  for  thine  own,  O  Death  !" 

Such  things  have  happened  as  for  men  to  die  without  an  instant's 
notice  ;  with  a  psalm  upon  their  lips,  they  have  passed  away  ;  or 
engaged  in  their  daily  business,  they  have  been  summoned  to  give 
in  their  account.  We  have  heard  of  one  who,  when  the  morning 
paper  brought  him  news  that  a  friend  in  business  had  died,  was 
drawing  on  his  boots  to  go  to  his  counting-house,  and  observed 
with  a  laugh,  that  as  far  as  he  was  concerned,  he  was  so  busy  he 
had  no  time  to  die.  Yet,  ere  the  words  were  finished,  he  fell  for- 
ward and  was  a  corpse.  Sudden  deaths  are  not  so  uncommon  as 
to  be  marvels,  if  we  dwell  in  the  centre  of  a  large  circle  of  man- 
kind. Thus  is  death  a  foe  not  to  be  despised  or  trifled  with. 
Let  us  remember  all  his  characteristics,  and  we  shall  not  be  in- 
clined to  think  lightly  of  the  grim  enemy  whom  our  glorious  Re- 
deemer has  destroyed. 

II.    Let  us  remember  that  death  is  an  enemy  to  be  destroyed. 
\j  Remember  that  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  has  already  wrought  a  great 
victory  upon  death,  so  that  he  has  delivered  us  from  lifelong  bond- 
age through  its  fear.      He  has  not  yet  destroyed  death,  but  he  has 
gone  very  near  to  it,  for  we  are  told  that  he  has  "  abolished  death, 


44  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

and  hath  brought  life  and  immortality  to  light  through  the  gos- 
pel." This  surely  must  come  very  near  to  having  destroyed 
death  altogether. 

In  the  first  place,  our  Lord  has  subdued  death  in  the  very  worst 
sense,  by  having  delivered  His  people  from  spiritual  death. 
<«  "  And  you  hath  he  quickened  who  were  dead  in  trespasses  and 
sins."  Once  you  had  no  divine  life  whatever,  but  the  death  of 
original  depravity  remained  upon  you,  and  so  you  were  dead  to 
all  divine  and  spiritual  things  ;  but  now,  beloved,  the  Spirit  of 
God,  even  He  that  raised  up  Jesus  Christ  from  the  dead,  has 
raised  you  up  into  newness  of  life,  and  you  have  become  new 
creatures  in  Christ  Jesus.  In  this  sense,  death  has  been  subdued. 
/  Our  Lord  in  His  lifetime  also  conquered  death  by  restoring 
certain  individuals  to  life.  There  were  three  memorable  cases  in 
which  at  His  bidding  the  last  enemy  resigned  his  prey.  Our 
Lord  went  into  the  ruler's  house,  and  saw  the  little  girl  who  had 
lately  fallen  asleep  in  death,  around  whom  they  wept  and  lament- 
ed ;  he  heard  their  scornful  laughter,  when  he  said,  "  She  is  not 
dead,  but  sleepeth,"  and  He  put  them  all  out,  and  said  to  her, 
"  Maid,  arise  !"  Then  was  the  spoiler  spoiled,  and  the  dungeon 
door  set  open.  He  stopped  the  funeral  procession  at  the  gates  of 
Nain,  whence  they  were  carrying  forth  a  young  man,  "  the  only 
son  of  his  mother,  and  she  was  a  widow,"  and  He  said,  "  Young 
man,  I  say  unto  thee,  arise."  When  that  young  man  sat  up, 
and  our  Lord  delivered  him  to  his  mother,  then  again  was  the 
prey  taken  from  the  mighty.  Chief  of  all,  when  Lazarus  had  lain 
in  the  grave  so  long  that  his  sister  said,  "  Lord,  by  this  time  he 
stinketh  ;"  when,  in  obedience  to  the  word,  "  Lazarus,  come 
forth  !"  forth  came  the  raised  one  with  his  grave-clothes  still 
about  him,  but  yet  really  quickened,  then  was  death  seen  to  be 
subservient  to  the  Son  of  Man.  "  Loose  him  and  let  him  go," 
said  the  conquering  Christ,  and  death's  bonds  were  removed,  for 
the  lawful  captive  was  delivered.  When,  at  the  Redeemer's  res- 
urrection, many  of  the  saints  arose  and  came  out  of  their  graves 
into  the  holy  city,  then  was  the  crucified  Lord  proclaimed  to  be 

7'ctorious  over  death  and  the  grave. 
Still,  brethren,  these  were  but  preliminary  skirmishes,  and  mere 
foreshadowings  of  the  grand    victory  by  which   death   was   over- 
thrown.     The  real  triumph  was  achieved  upon  the  cross. 


CHRIST  THE  DESTROYER  OF  DEATH  45 

He  hell  in  hell  laid  low  ; 

Made  sin,  He  sin  o'erlhrew  : 
Bowed  to  the  grave,  destroyed  it  so, 

And  death,  by  dying,  slew." 

When  Christ  died,  He  suffered  the  penalty  of  death  on  the  be- 
half of  all  His  people,  and  therefore  no  believer  now  dies  by  way 
of  punishment  for  sin,  since  we  cannot  dream  that  a  righteous 
God  would  twice  exact  the  penalty  for  one  offence.  Death,  since 
Jesus  died,  is  not  a  penal  infliction  upon  the  children  of  God  ; 
as  such  He  has  abolished  it,  and  it  can  never  be  enforced.  Why 
die  the  saints,  then  ?  Why,  because  their  bodies  must  be  changed 
ere  they  can  enter  heaven.  ''  Flesh  and  blood,"  as  they  are, 
"cannot  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God."  A  divine  change  must 
take  place  upon  the  body  before  it  will  be  fit  for  incorruption  and 
glory  ;  and  death  and  the  grave  are,  as  it  were,  the  refining  pot 
and  the  furnace,  by  means  of  which  the  body  is  made  ready  for  its 
future  bliss.  Death,  it  is  true,  thou  art  not  yet  destroyed,  but 
our  living  Redeemer  has  so  changed  thee  that  thou  art  no  longer 
death,  but  something  other  than  thy  name  !     Saints  die  not  now, 

V'but  they  are  dissolved  and  depart.  Death  is  the  loosing  of  the 
cable,  that  the  bark  may  freely  sail  to  the  fair  havens.  Death  is 
the  fiery  chariot  in  which  we  ascend  to  God  ;  it  is  the  gentle  voice 
of  the  great  King,  who  cometh  into  his  banqueting  hall,  and 
saith,  "Friend,  come  up  higher."  Behold,  on  eagles  wings  we 
mount,  we  fly,  far  from  this  land  of  mist  and  cloud,  into  the  eter- 
nal serenity  and  brilliance  of  God's  own  house  above.  Yes,  our 
Lord  has  abolished  death.  The  sting  of  death  is  sin,  and  our 
great  Substitute  has  taken  that  sting  away  by  His  great  sacrifice. 
Stingless,  death  abides  among  the  people  of  God,  but  it  so  little 
harms  them  that  to  them  "  it  is  not  death  to  die." 

\f  Further,  Christ  vanquished  Death  and  thoroughly  overcame 
him  when  He  rose.  What  a  temptation  one  has  to  paint  a  picture 
of  the  resurrection,  but  I  will  not  be  led  aside  to  attempt  more 
than  a  few  touches.  When  our  great  Champion  awoke  from  his 
brief  sleep  of  death,  and  found  Himself  in  the  withdrawing-room 
of  the  grave,  He  quietly  proceeded  to  put  off  the  garments  of  the 
tomb.  How  leisurely  He  proceeded  !  He  folded  up  the  napkin 
and  placed  it  by  itself,  that  those  who  lose  their  friends  might 
wipe  their  eyes  therewith  ;  and  then  He  took  off  the  winding- 


46  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

sheet,  and  laid  the  grave-clothes  by  themselves,  that  they  might  be 
there  when  His  saints  came  thither,  so  that  the  chamber  might  be 
well  furnished,  and  the  bed  ready  sheeted  and  prepared  for  their 
rest.  The  sepulchre  is  no  longer  an  empty  vault,  a  dreary  char- 
nel,  but  a  chamber  of  rest,  a  dormitory  furnished  and  prepared, 
hung  with  the  arras  which  Christ  Himself  has  bequeathed.  It  is 
now  no  more  a  damp,  dark,  dreary  prison  ;  Jesus  has  changed  all 

that. 

\/"     "  'Tis  now  a  cell  where  angels  use 

To  come  and  go  with  heavenly  news." 

The  angel  from  heaven  rolled  away  the  stone  from  our  Lord's 
sepulchre,  and  let  in  the  fresh  air  and  light  again  upon  our  Lord, 
and  He  stepped  out  more  than  a  conqueror.  Death  had  fled. 
The  grave  had  capitulated. 

"  Lives  again  our  glorious  King  ! 
'  Where,  O  death,  is  now  thy  sting  ?  ' 
Once  He  died  our  souls  to  save  ; 
'  Where's  thy  victory,  boasting  grave  ?  '  " 

Well,  brethren,  so  surely  as  Christ  rose,  so  did  He  guarantee  as 
an  absolute  certainty  the  resurrection  of  all  His  saints  into  a  glori- 
ous life  for  their  bodies,  the  life  of  their  souls  never  having  paused 
even  for  a  moment.  In  this  He  conquered  death  ;  and  since 
that  memorable  victory,  every  day  Christ  is  overcoming  death,  for 
He  gives  His  Spirit  to  His  saints,  and  having  that  Spirit  within 
them,  they  meet  the  last  enemy  without  alarm  ;  often  they  con- 
front him  with  songs,  perhaps  more  frequently  they  face  him  with 
calm  countenance,  and  fall  asleep  with  peace.  I  will  not  fear 
thee,  Death  ;  why  should  I  ?  Thou  lookest  like  a  dragon,  but 
thy  sting  is  gone.  Thy  teeth  are  broken,  oh,  old  lion  !  wherefore 
should  I  fear  thee  ?  I  know  thou  art  no  more  able  to  destroy 
me,  but  thou  art  sent  as  a  messenger  to  conduct  me  to  the  golden 
gate,  wherein  I  shall  enter  and  see  my  Saviour's  unveiled  face  for- 
ever. Expiring  saints  have  often  said  that  their  last  beds  have 
been  the  best  they  have  ever  slept  upon.  Many  of  them  have  in- 
quired, 

"  Tell  me,  my  soul,  can  this  be  death  ?" 

To  die  has  been  so  different  a  thing  from  what  they  expected  it 
to  be,  so  lightsome  and  so  joyous  ;  they  have  been  so  unloaded  of 


CHRIST  THE  DESTROYER   OF  DEATH.  47 

all  care,  have  felt  so  relieved  instead  of  burdened,  that  they  have 
wondered  whether  this  could  be  the  monster  they  had  been  so 
afraid  of  all  their  days.  They  find  it  a  pin's  prick,  whereas  they 
feared  it  would  prove  a  sword-thrust ;  it  is  the  shutting  of  the  eye 
on  earth,  and  the  opening  of  it  in  heaven,  whereas  they  thought  it 
would  have  been  a  stretching  upon  the  rack,  or  a  dreary  passage 
through  a  dismal  region  of  gloom  and  dread.  Beloved,  our  ex- 
alted Lord  has  overcome  death  in  all  these  ways. 

But  now,  observe,  that  this  is  not  the  text — the  text  speaks  of 
something  yet  to  be  done.  The  last  enemy  that  shall  be  destroyed 
is  death,  so  that  death,  in  the  sense  meant  by  the  text,  is  not  de- 
stroyed yet.      He  is  to  be  destroyed,  and  how  will  that  be  ? 

Well,  I  take  it  death  will  be  destroyed  in  the  sense,  first,  that, 
at  the  coming  of  Christ,  those  who  are  alive  and  remain  shall  not  see 
death.  They  shall  be  changed  ;  there  must  be  a  change,  even  to 
the  living,  before  they  can  inherit  eternal  life  ;  but  they  shall  not 
actually  die.  Do  not  envy  them,  for  they  will  have  no  preference 
beyond  those  that  sleep  ;  rather  do  I  think  theirs  to  be  the  infe- 
rior lot  of  the  two  in  some  respects.  But  they  will  not  know 
death  ;  the  multitude  of  the  Lord's  own  who  will  be  alive  at  His 
coming  will  pass  into  glory  without  needing  to  die.  Thus  death, 
as  far  as  they  are  concerned,  will  be  destroyed. 

But  the  sleeping  ones,  the  myriads  who  have  left  their  flesh  and 
bones  to  moulder  back  to  earth,  death  shall  be  destroyed  even  as 
to  them,  for  when  the  trumpet  sounds  they  shall  rise  from  the 
tomb.  The  resurrection  is  the  destruction  of  death.  We  never 
taught,  nor  believed,  nor  thought  that  every  particle  of  every  body 
that  was  put  into  the  grave  would  come  to  its  fellow,  and  that  the 
absolutely  identical  material  would  rise  ;  but  we  do  say  that  the 
identical  body  will  be  raised,  and  that  as  surely  as  there  cometh 
out  of  the  ground  the  seed  that  was  put  into  it,  though  in  a  very 
different  guise — for  it  cometh  not  forth  as  a  seed,  but  as  a  flower 
— so  surely  shall  the  same  body  rise  again.  The  same  material  is 
not  necessary  ;  but  there  shall  come  out  of  the  grave,  ay,  come 
out  of  the  earth,  if  it  never  saw  a  grave,  or  come  out  of  the  sea, 
if  devoured  by  monsters,  that  self-same  body  for  true  identity, 
which  was  inhabited  by  the  soul  while  here  below.  Was  it  not  so 
with  our  Lord  ?  Even  so  shall  it  be  with  His  own  people,  and 
then  shall  be  brought  to  pass  the  saying  that  is  written,  "  Death 


48  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

is  swallowed  up  in  victory.      O,  Death  !   where  is  thy  sting  ?     O, 
grave  !  where  is  thy  victory  ?' ' 

There  will  be  this  feature  in  our  Lord's  victory,  that  death  will 

/  be  fully  destroyed,  because  those  who  rise  will  not  be  one  whit  the 
worse  for  having  died.  I  believe,  concerning  those  new  bodies, 
that  there  will  be  no  trace  upon  them  of  the  feebleness  of  old  age, 
none  of  the  marks  of  long  and  wearying  sickness,  none  of  the  scars 
of  martyrdom.  Death  shall  not  have  left  his  mark  upon  them  at 
all,  except  it  be  some  glory  mark  which  shall  be  to  their  honor, 
like  the  scars  in  the  flesh  of  the  Well-beloved,  which  are  His 
chief  beauty,  even  now,  in  the  eyes  of  those  for  whom  His  hands 
and  feet  were  pierced.      In  this  sense  death  shall  be  destroyed, 

v/because  He  shall  have  done  no  damage  to  the  saints  at  all  ;  the 
very  trace  of  decay  shall  have  been  swept  away  from  the  redeemed. 
And  then,  finally,  there  shall,  after  this  trumpet  of  the  Lord, 
be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow,  nor  crying,  for  the  former  things 
have  passed  away.  "  Christ  being  raised  from  the  dead,  dieth  no 
more,  death  hath  no  more  dominion  over  Him  ;"  and  so  also  the 
quickened  ones,  His  own  redeemed,  they  too  shall  die  no  more. 
Oh,  dreadful,  dreadful  supposition,  that  they  should  ever  have  to 
undergo  temptation  or  pain  or  death  a  second  time.  It  cannot 
be.  "  Because  I  live,"  says  Christ,  "  they  shall  live  also."  Yet 
the  doctrine  of  the  natural  immortality  of  the  soul  having  been 
given  up  by  some,  certain  of  them  have  felt  obliged  to  give  up 
with  the  eternity  of  future  punishment  the  eternity  of  future  bliss, 
and  assuredly,  as  far  as  some  great  proof  texts  are  concerned,  they 
stand  or  fall  together.  "These  shall  go  away  into  everlasting 
punishment,  and  the  righteous  into  life  eternal  ;"  if  the  one  state 
be  short,  so  must  the  other  be  :  whatever  the  adjective  means  in 
the  one  case,  it  means  in  the  other.  To  us  the  word  means  end- 
less duration  in  both  cases,  and  we  look  forward  to  a  bliss  which 
shall  never  know  end  or  duration.  Then  in  the  tearless,  sorrow- 
less,  graveless  country  death  shall  be  utterly  destroyed. 

III.  And  now,  last  of  all — and  the  word  "  last"  sounds  fitly  in 
this  case — death  is  to  be  destroyed  last.  Because  he  came  in 
last  he  must  go  out  last.  Death  was  not  the  first  of  our  foes  ; 
first  came  the  devil,  then  sin,  then  death.  Death  is  not  the  worst 
of  enemies  ;  death  is  an  enemy,  but  he  is  much  to  be  preferred  to 
our  other  adversaries.      It  were  better  to  die  a  thousand  times  than 


CHRIST  THE  DESTROYER   OF  DEATH.  49 

to  sin.  To  be  tried  by  death  is  nothing,  compared  with  being 
tempted  by  the  devil.  The  mere  physical  pains  connected  with 
dissolution  are  comparative  trifles,  compared  with  the  hideous 
grief  which  is  caused  by  sin,  and  the  burden  which  a  sense  of  guilt 
causes  to  the  soul.  No,  death  is  but  a  secondary  mischief,  com- 
pared with  the  defilement  of  sin.  Let  the  great  enemies  go  down 
first  ;  smite  the  shepherd,  and  the  sheep  will  be  scattered  ;  let  sin 
and  Satan,  the  lord  of  all  these  evils,  be  smitten  first,  and  death 
may  well  be  left  to  the  last. 

Notice  that  death  is  the  last  enemy  to  each  individual  Christian, 
and  the  last  to  be  destroyed.  Well,  now,  if  the  Word  of  God  says 
it  is  the  last,  I  want  to  remind  you  of  a  little  piece  of  practical 
wisdom — leave  him  to  be  the  last.  Brother,  do  not  dispute  the 
appointed  order,  but  let  the  last  be  last.  I  have  known  a  brother 
wanting  to  vanquish  death  long  before  he  died.  But,  brother, 
you  do  not  want  dying  grace  till  dying  moments.  What  would 
be  the  good  of  dying  grace  while  you  are  yet  alive  ?  A  boat  will 
only  be  needful  when  you  reach  a  river.  Ask  for  living-  grace, 
and  glorify  Christ  thereby,  and  then  you  shall  have  dying  grace 
when  dying  time  comes.  Your  enemy  is  going  to  be  destroyed, 
but  not  to-day.  There  is  a  great  host  of  enemies  to  be  fought  to- 
day, and  you  may  be  content  to  let  this  one  alone  for  a  while. 
This  enemy  will  be  destroyed,  but  of  the  times  and  the  seasons  we 
are  in  ignorance  ;  our  wisdom  is  to  be  good  soldiers  of  Jesus 
Christ  as  the  duty  of  every  day  requires.  Take  your  trials  as  they 
come,  brother  !  As  the  enemies  march  up,  slay  them,  rank  upon 
rank  ;  but  if  you  fail  in  the  name  of  God  to  smite  the  front  ranks, 
and  say,  "  No,  I  am  only  afraid  of  the  rear  rank,"  then  you  are 
playing  the  fool.  Leave  the  final  shock  of  arms  till  the  last  ad- 
versary advances,  and  meanwhile,  hold  you  your  place  in  the  con- 
flict. God  will,  in  due  time,  help  you  to  overcome  your  last 
enemy,  but  meanwhile  see  to  it  that  you  overcome  the  world,  the 
flesh,  and  the  devil.  If  you  live  well  you  will  die  well.  That 
same  covenant  in  which  the  Lord  Jesus  gave  you  life  contains  also 
the  grant  of  death,  for  "  All  things  are  yours,  whether  things 
present  or  things  to  come,  or  life  or  death,  all  are  yours,  and  ye 
are  Christ's,  and  Christ  is  God's." 

Why  is  death  left  to  the  last  ?  Well,  I  think  it  is  because 
Christ  can  make  much  use  of  him.      The  last  enemy  that  shall  be 


50  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

destroyed  is  death,  because  death  is  of  great  service  before  he  is 
destroyed.  Oh,  what  lessons  some  of  us  have  learned  from  death  ! 
"  Our  dying  friends  come  o'er  us  like  a  cloud  to  damp  our  brain- 
less ardors  ;"  make  us  feel  that  these  poor  fleeting  toys  are  not 
worth  living  for  ;  that  as  others  pass  away  so  must  we  also  be 
gone,  and  thus  they  help  to  make  us  set  loose  by  this  world,  and 
urge  us  to  take  wing  and  mount  toward  the  world  to  come. 
There  are,  perhaps,  no  sermons  like  the  deaths  which  have  hap- 
pened in  our  households  ;  the  departures  of  our  beloved  friends 
have  been  to  us  solemn  discourses  of  divine  wisdom,  which  our 
heart  could  not  help  hearing.  So  Christ  has  spared  death  to 
make  him  a  preacher  to  His  saints. 

And  you  know,  brethren,  that  if  there  had  been  no  death  the 
^  saints  of  God  would  not  have  had  the  opportunity  to  exhibit  the 
highest  ardor  of  their  love.  Where  has  love  to  Christ  triumphed 
y  most  ?  Why,  in  the  death  of  the  martyrs  at  the  stake  and  on  the 
rack.  O  Christ !  Thou  never  hadst  such  garlands  woven  for 
Thee  by  human  hands  as  they  have  brought  Thee  who  have  come 
up  to  heaven  from  the  forests  of  persecution,  having  waded 
through  streams  of  blood.  By  death  for  Christ  the  saints  have 
glorified  Him  most. 

So  is  it,  in  their  measure,  with  saints  who  die  from  ordinary 
deaths.  They  would  have  had  no  such  test  for  faith  and  work  for 
patience  as  they  now  have,  if  there  had  been  no  death.  Part  of 
the  reason  of  the  continuance  of  this  dispensation  is  that  the 
Christ  of  God  may  be  glorified  ;  but  if  believers  never  died,  the 
supreme  consummation  of  faith's  victory  must  have  been  un- 
known. Brethren,  if  I  may  die  as  I  have  seen  some  of  our 
church  members  die,  I  court  the  grand  occasion.  I  would  not 
wish  to  escape  death  by  some  by-road,  if  I  may  sing  as  they  sang. 
If  I  may  have  such  hosannas  and  hallelujahs  beaming  in  my  very 
eyes,  as  I  have  seen  as  well  as  heard  from  them,  it  were  a  blessed 
thing  to  die.  Yes,  as  a  supreme  test  of  love  and  faith,  death  is 
well  respited  awhile  to  let  the  saints  glorify  their  Master. 

Besides,  brethren,  without  death  we  should  not  be  so  conformed 
to  Christ  as  we  shall  be  if  we  fall  asleep  in  Him.  If  there  could 
be  any  jealousies  in  heaven  among  the  saints,  I  think  that  any 
saint  who  does  not  die,  but  is  changed  when  Christ  comes,  could 
almost  meet  me  and  you,  who  probably  will  die,  and  say,  "  My 


CHRIST  THE  DESTROYER   OF  DEATH.  51 

brother,  there  is  one  thing  I  have  missed  ;  I  never  lay  in  the 
grave,  I  never  had  the  chill  hand  of  death  laid  on  me,  and  so  in 
that  I  was  not  conformed  to  my  Lord.  But  you  know  what  it  is 
to  have  fellowship  with  Him,  even  in  His  death."  Did  I  not 
well  say  that  they  that  were  alive  and  remain  should  have  no 
preference  over  them  that  are  asleep  ?  I  think  the  preference,  if 
anything,  shall  belong  to  us  who  sleep  in  Jesus,  and  wake  up  in 
His  likeness. 

Death,  dear  friends,  is  not  yet  destroyed,  because  he  brings  the 
saints  home.  He  does  but  come  to  them  and  whisper  his  mes- 
sage, and  in  a  moment  they  are  supremely  blessed  ; 

"  Have  done  with  sin  and  care  and  woe, 
And  with  the  Saviour  rest." 

And  so  death  is  not  destroyed  yet,  for  he  answers  useful  purposes. 
But,  beloved,  he  is  going  to  be  destroyed.  He  is  the  last 
enemy  of  the  Church  collectively.  The  Church,  as  a  body,  has 
had  a  mass  of  foes  to  contend  with  ;  but  after  the  resurrection  we 
shall  say,  "  This  is  the  last  enemy.  Not  another  foe  is  left." 
Eternity  shall  roll  on  in  ceaseless  bliss.  There  may  be  changes, 
bringing  new  delights  ;  perhaps  in  the  eternity  to  come  there  may 
be  eras  and  ages  of  yet  more  amazing  bliss,  and  still  more  super- 
lative ecstasy  ;  but  there  shall  be 

"  No  rude  alarm  of  raging  foes, 
No  cares  to  break  the  last  repose." 

The  last  enemy  that  shall  be  destroyed  is  death,  and  if  the  last  be 
slain  there  can  be  no  future  foe.  The  battle  is  fought  and  the 
victory  is  won  forever.  And  who  hath  won  it  ?  who  but  the  Lamb 
that  sitteth  on  the  throne,  to  whom  let  us  all  ascribe  honor  and 
glory  and  majesty  and  power  and  dominion  and  might  forever 
and  ever.      The  Lord  help  us  in  our  solemn  adoration. 

"The  piteous  image  of  Death  stands 

Not  to  the  wise  as  a  terror,  and  not  as  the  end  to  the  pious. 

Wisely  the  wise  man  is  driven  from  thought  of  death  into  action; 

Wisely  the  pious  from  death  draws  hope  of  bliss  for  the  future. 

Each  is  wise  in  his  way,  and  death  to  life  is  transmuted 

Wisely  by  both." 

Goethe. 


52  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 


CONFESSIONS    OF    DYING    MEN. 

BY   JOEL    HAWES,    D.  D. ,    HARTFORD,   CONN. 
It  is  appointed  unto  men  once  to  die. — Hebrews  ix.  27. 

The  fact  asserted  in  this  text  is  admitted  by  all  ;  but  how  few 
appear  to  feel  its  practical  influence.  Who  would  infer  from  the 
conduct  and  conversation  of  most  men,  that  they  believed  them- 
selves to  be  mortal,  or  that  they  expected  anything  less  than  that 
their  residence  on  earth  is  to  be  perpetual  ?  They  live  as  care- 
lessly, plan  as  confidently,  and  pursue  the  world  with  as  much 
eagerness,  as  if  they  were  exempted  from  change,  and  could  set  at 
defiance  the  attacks  of  disease  and  death.  Yet  they  must  die — 
must  die  soon,  and  may  die  suddenly  ;  and  after  death  cometh  the 
judgment.  This  is  the  appointment  of  God,  and  in  this  war 
there  is  no  discharge.  It  is  wise,  then,  to  consider  our  latter  end, 
to  be  familiar  with  the  thought  of  dying,  often  and  seriously  to 
consider  what  will  be  our  feelings  and  views  when  we  shall  come 
to  lie  upon  our  death-bed,  and  feel  that  we  are  going  into  eter- 
nity. This  is  a  duty  which  especially  demands  our  attention  now, 
as  we  have  just  taken  leave  of  the  old  year,  and  are  entering  upon 
the  unknown,  untried  scenes  of  a  new  one,  which,  to  some  of  us, 
no  doubt,  will  be  the  last  year  of  life. 

Let  us,  then,  endeavor  to  bring  the  closing  scene  near,  to  think 
of  ourselves  as  having  reached  the  end  of  our  earthly  course,  and 
about  to  take  our  final  leave  of  the  world  and  all  its  busy  cares. 
The  question  arises,  What,  in  such  a  case,  would  be  our  feelings, 
what  the  reflections  that  would  press  upon  our  minds  with  the 
greatest  weight  and  solemnity  ?  We  may,  indeed,  die  so  sud- 
denly that  we  shall  have  no  time  to  think  till  we  think  in  eter- 
nity. We  may  drop  in  a  moment  into  the  unseen  world,  as 
many  do,  without  any  warning  of  our  end,  till  the  blow  is  struck, 
and  the  spirit  finds  itself  in  the  immediate  presence  of  God.  Or 
the  last  sickness  may  come  in  such  a  form  as  to  rack  the  body 
with  agonizing  pain,  put  out  the  light  of  reason,  and  cloud  the 
mind  in  wild  delirium.  But  on  the  supposition  that  we  shall  be 
notified  of  our  approaching  end  by  the  usual  precursors  of  death, 


CONFESSIONS   OF  DYING  MEN.  53 

and  that  the  dying  scene  shall  find  us  in  the  exercise  of  our 
reason,  capable  of  reflecting  upon  the  past,  and  anticipating  the 
future,  let  us  inquire  how  we  shall  feel,  what  will  be  our  judg- 
ment as  to  our  present  course  of  life,  and  what  our  thoughts,  as 
we  draw  near  the  invisible  world,  and  know  that  we  are  standing 
on  the  verge  of  a  boundless  eternity.  We  cannot,  indeed,  know 
all  that  we  shall  fael  and  think  in  that  solemn  hour.  It  will  be 
to  each  of  us  a  new  and  untried  scene,  till  we  are  actually  called 
to  pass  through  it,  and  learn  from  dying  what  it  is  to  die.  But  it 
is  certain  we  shall  feel  and  think  very  differently  from  what  we 
now  do.  On  many  subjects  our  views  will  be  wholly  changed  ; 
they  will  appear  to  us  in  an  entirely  new  light,  and  awaken  new 
feelings  within,  of  which  we  can  now  form  but  a  very  faint  con- 
ception. We  know  this  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  and  also  from 
the  feelings  and  views  which  are  wont  to  be  expressed  by  men 
when  they  come  to  die.  We  have  seen  many  persons  die,  and  we 
have  authentic  accounts  of  the  manner  in  which  many  others  died 
whom  we  did  not  see.  Let  us,  then,  study  the  experience  of  the 
dying.  It  is  the  last  school  of  wisdom  to  which  the  children  of 
men  can  be  advanced  ;  and  as  we  shall  all  ere  long  be  placed  in 
that  school,  let  us  recall  a  few  particulars  respecting  which  the 
feelings  and  sentiments  of  men  are  wont  to  undergo  a  great 
change  as  they  view  themselves  near  to  the  close  of  life.  As  I 
shall  illustrate  the  subject  by  a  frequent  recurrence  to  what  per- 
sons have  felt  and  said  in  that  situation,  I  may  entitle  my  dis- 
course— CONFESSIONS  OF  DYING  MEN. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  when  men  come  to  die,  they  are  wont  to 
feel,  with  a  vividness  of  impression  wholly  unknown  before,  the 
shortness  of  life,  and  the  unspeakable  value  of  time.  Viewed  in 
prospect,  or  in  the  season  of  health  and  happiness,  life  usually 
seems  long,  and  time  is  but  little  valued.  To  the  young,  a  year 
is  wont  to  appear  longer  than  a  whole  life  does  to  him  who  is 
about  to  depart  out  of  it  ;  and  time  hangs  so  heavily  on  their 
hands  that  they  know  not  what  to  do  with  it.  And  even  when 
they  have  attained  to  the  meridian  of  their  days,  and  their  sun  is 
on  the  decline,  they  usually  have  but  a  very  faint  impression  of 
the  shortness  of  life,  or  of  the  immense  value  of  the  hours  that  are 
flitting  by  them.  Especially  is  this  the  case  with  the  irreligious 
and  worldly-minded.      Immersed  in  the  cares  and  pursuits  of  earth 


54  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

and  sense,  they  perceive  not  how  rapidly  the  little  span  of  life  is 
wasting-  away,  nor  how  soon  all  the  time  allotted  them  in  this 
state  of  probation  will  have  passed  with  the  years  beyond  the 
flood.  They  still  live  under  the  delusive  impression  that  they 
have  time  enough  before  them  to  accomplish  all  their  plans,  and 
to  do  what  they  please. 

But  when  they  come  to  die  the  whole  scene^s  changed.  Life 
is  then  seen  to  be  indeed  but  a  vapor,  that  appeareth  for  a  little 
moment,  and  then  vanisheth  away.  All  the  months  and  years 
they  have  passed  on  earth  are  then  compressed,  as  it  were,  into  a 
point,  and  seem  more  like  a  dream  than  a  reality.  Hear  how  the 
worthies,  whose  names  are  recorded  in  the  Bible,  spoke  on  this 
subject,  as  they  approached  the  close  of  life.  "  My  days,"  says 
Job,  "  are  swifter  than  a  post,  they  are  passed  away  as  a  shadow." 
"  Remember  how  short  thy  time  is,"  cries  the  Psalmist.  "  Be- 
hold thou  hast  made  my  days  as  a  handbreadth,  and  mine  age  is 
as  nothing  before  thee  ;  as  for  man,  his  days  are  as  grass  ;  in  the 
morning  it  is  green  ;  in  the  evening  it-is  cut  down  and  withered." 
And  the  patriarch  Jacob,  though  he  had  lived  an  hundred  and 
thirty  years,  felt  constrained  to  say,  "  Few  and  evil  have  the  days 
of  the  years  of  my  life  been. 

Such  are  the  feelings  of  all  men  at  the  close  of  life.  It  seems 
but  a  transient  moment,  and  the  events  of  it  as  a  dream  when  one 
awake th.  Lord  Chesterfield,  though  a  sceptic,  and  devoted  to  a 
life  of  pleasure,  was  compelled  to  say,  near  the  close  of  his  days, 
"  When  I  reflect  upon  what  I  have  seen,  what  I  have  heard,  and 
what  I  have  done  myself,  I  can  hardly  persuade  myself  that  all 
the  frivolous  hurry  and  bustle  and  pleasure  of  the  world  are  a 
reality  ;  but  they  seem  to  have  been  the  dreams  of  restless 
nights."  Voltaire,  after  having  spent  a  long  life  in  blaspheming 
the  Saviour  and  opposing  His  Gospel,  said  to  his  physician  on 
his  dying-bed,  "  I  will  give  you  half  of  what  I  am  worth,  if  you 
will  give  me  six  months  of  life."  "  O,  time  !  time  !"  exclaimed 
the  dying  Altamont,  "  how  art  thou  fled  forever.  A  month  !  oh, 
for  a  single  week  !  I  ask  not  for  years,  though  an  age  were  too 
little  for  the  much  I  have  to  do."  Said  Gibbon,  "  The  present 
is  a  fleeting  moment,  the  past  is  no  more,  and  my  prospect  of 
futurity  is  dark  and  doubtful."  Hobbes  said,  as  the  last  hour 
approached,  "  If  I  had  the  whole  world  to  dispose  of,  I  would 


CONFESSIONS    OF  DYING   MEN.  55 

give  it  to  live  one  day."  "Oh!"  cried  the  Duke  of  Bucking- 
ham, as  he  was  closing  a  life  devoted  to  folly  and  sin,  "  what  a 
prodigal  have  I  been  of  the  most  valuable  of  all  possessions,  time  ! 
I  have  squandered  it  away  with  the  persuasion  that  it  was  lasting  ; 
and  now,  when  a  few  days  would  be  worth  a  hecatomb  of  worlds, 
I  cannot  flatter  myself  with  the  prospect  of  half  a  dozen  hours." 

You  see  from  these  examples  what  are  the  impressions  of  dying 
men,  whether  good  or  bad,  respecting  the  brevity  of  life  and  the 
worth  of  time.  One  sentiment  is  then  felt  by  all — life  is  very 
short,  and  time  is  of  infinite  value. 

II.  Another  confession  which  is  wont  to  be  made  by  dying 
men  is,  that  there  is  nothing  in  this  world  that  can  satisfy  the 
wants  of  the  immortal  soul.  This  is  a  lesson  which  men  in  gen- 
eral are  extremely  slow  to  learn.  Though  they  are  continually 
taught  by  the  Word  and  the  Providence  of  God,  that  all  things 
earthly  are  but  for  a  moment,  and  perish  in  the  using,  they  still 
pursue  them  as  their  supreme  good,  and  vainly  flatter  themselves 
that  when  this  plan  is  accomplished,  and  that  object  attained,  they 
shall  be  satisfied  ;  they  shall  be  happy.  This  is  the  delusion  of 
the  young,  the  middle-aged,  and  the  aged  ;  and  it  is  the  main- 
spring of  that  restless  activity  and  ambition,  and  aspiring  after  the 
world,  which  we  witness  around  us.  All  wish  to  be  happy,  and  all 
expect  to  be  happy  in  the  possession  of  worldly  good. 

But  in  the  dying  hour  this  is  discovered  to  be  a  most  fatal  mis- 
take, and  men  look  back  with  amazement  upon  the  folly  and 
madness  with  which  they  pursued  the  world,  and  looked  to  its 
possessions  for  a  satisfying  portion.  As  they  stand  upon  the  verge 
of  time,  and  extend  their  view  to  the  boundless  eternity  that 
stretches  before  them,  the  world  sinks  into  utter  insignificance, 
and  they  wonder  how  they  ever  could  have  been  so  enamored  of 
its  glittering  toys,  and  how  the  living  can  be  so  deluded  as  to 
chase  its  fleeting  vanities  in  the  expectation  of  deriving  from  them 
a  satisfying  good.  When  Salmasius,  one  of  the  greatest  scholars 
of  his  time,  drew  near  to  death,  he  exclaimed  bitterly  against  him- 
self :  "  Oh,  I  have  lost  a  world  of  time  ;  time,  the  most  precious 
thing  on  the  earth,  whereof  if  I  had  but  one  year  more,  it  should 
be  spent  in  David's  Psalms  and  Paul's  Epistles.'  Oh,  mind  the 
world  less  and  God  more  !"  Grotius  possessed  the  finest  genius 
ever  recorded  of  a  youth  in  the  learned  world,  and  rose  to  an  emi- 


56  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

nence  in  literature  and  science  which  drew  upon  him  the  admira- 
tion of  all  Europe  ;  yet,  after  all  his  attainments  and  high  reputa- 
tion, he  was  constrained  at  last  to  cry  out,  "Ah,  I  have  con- 
sumed my  life  in  a  laborious  doing  of  nothing  !  I  would  give  all 
my  learning  and  honor  for  the  plain  integrity  of  John  Urick" — a 
poor  man  of  eminent  piety.  John  Mason,  on  his  death-bed,  said, 
"  I  have  lived  to  see  five  princes,  and  have  been  privy  counsel- 
lor to  four  of  them  ;  I  have  seen  the  most  important  things  in 
foreign  parts,  and  have  been  present  at  most  state  transactions  for 
thirty  years  together  ;  and  I  have  learned,  after  so  many  years' 
experience,  that  seriousness  is  the  greatest  wisdom,  temperance  the 
best  physic,  and  a  good  conscience  the  best  estate.  And  were  I  to 
live  again,  I  would  change  the  whole  life  I  have  lived  in  the 
palace  for  an  hour's  enjoyment  of  God  in  the  chapel."  Philip 
the  Third,  King  of  Spain,  when  he  drew  near  the  end  of  his  days, 
expressed  his  deep  regret  for  a  worldly  and  careless  life  in  these 
emphatic  words:  "Ah,  how  happy  it  would  have  been  for  me, 
had  I  spent  these  twenty-three  years  I  have  held  my  kingdom,  in 
retirement  !"  "  Good  God  !"  exclaimed  a  dying  nobleman, 
"how  have  I  employed  myself!  In  what  delirium  has  my  life 
been  passed  !  What  have  I  been  dong  while  the  sun  in  its  race 
and  the  stars  in  their  courses  have  lent  their  beams,  perhaps  only 
to  light  me  to  perdition  !  I  have  pursued  shadows,  and  enter- 
tained myself  with  dreams.  I  have  been  treasuring  up  dust,  and 
sporting  myself  with  the  wind.  I  might  have  grazed  with  the 
beasts  of  the  field,  or  sung  with  the  winged  inhabitants  of  the 
woods,  to  much  better  purpose  than  any  for  which   I  have  lived. 

Examples  of  this  kind  might  be  multiplied  to  almost  any  ex- 
tent, but  enough  have  been  cited  to  show  how  men  regard  the 
riches  and  honors  of  the  world  when  they  find  themselves  drawing 
near  to  a  dying  hour,  and  are  called  to  look  into  eternity. 

III.  When  men  are  laid  upon  a  dying  bed,  they  are  wont  to 
feel  and  to  acknowledge  the  utter  insufficiency  of  a  mere  moral 
life  to  prepare  them  to  appear  in  the  presence  of  God.  Many  there 
are  who  trust  to  such  a  life  as  their  only  ground  of  hope  for  eter- 
nity. They  do  not,  perhaps,  believe  in  the  reality  of  a  change  of 
heart  wrought  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  or  at  least  they  do  not  feel  the 
need  of  such  a  change  in  themselves.  They  mean  to  lead  a  cor- 
rect moral  life,  to  be  honest  in  their  dealings,  and  kind  in  their 


CONFESSIONS   OF  DYING  MEN.  $7 

treatment  of  their  fellow-men,  and  this,  they  imagine,  will  avail  to 
secure  the  approbation  of  their  final  Judge.  They  have  no  just 
sense  of  sin,  nor  of  their  need  of  pardon  through  the  blood  of 
Christ,  but  trust  all  to  a  moral  life.  There  is  no  more  common 
delusion  than  this,  and  it  is  a  delusion  which  vanishes  at  the  ap- 
proach of  death,  and  leaves  the  soul  trembling  in  prospect  of  going 
to  appear  before  God.  The  actions  of  life  then  appear  in  a  far 
different  light  from  what  they  do  in  the  days  of  health  and 
thoughtlessness.  Many  things  which  are  indulged,  without  the 
slightest  apprehension  of  their  being  wrong,  are  then  seen  to  be 
sins  deeply  offensive  to  God,  and  dangerous  to  the  soul.  The 
law  is  seen  to  be  unspeakably  more  strict  and  holy,  sin  to  be  a 
much  greater  evil,  and  the  trial  before  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ 
far  more  dreadful.  What  the  sinner  needs  in  the  dying  hour  is 
something  to  take  away  the  sting  of  death  ;  something  to  sustain 
his  spirit  as  he  passes  into  the  dark  valley,  and  to  assure  him  of 
the  forgiveness  and  favor  of  that  Almighty  Being  before  whom  he 
is  about  to  appear.  But  this  the  fairest  morality  is  utterly  in- 
sufficient to  do.  It  meets  not  the  exigencies  of  the  sinner's  case. 
It  is  neither  obedience  to  the  law,  nor  to  the  gospel ;  neither  love 
to  God,  nor  faith  in  Christ.  It  is  in  its  loveliest  form  only  the 
cobweb  covering  of  a  fair  exterior,  and  wrapped  only  in  this  cover- 
ing, the  soul  shudders  at  the  thought  of  death,  and  falls  back  in 
dismay  at  the  sight  of  the  great  tribune. 

The  Apostle  enjoyed  great  peace  in  the  near  prospect  of  death  ; 
but  it  was  derived  not  from  a  moral  life,  but  from  faith  in  Christ, 
from  evidence  felt  within  that  he  had  a  personal  interest  in  the 
great  salvation,  and  was  clothed  in  His  righteousness  who  had 
loved  him  and  given  Himself  to  die  for  him.  This  is  the  only 
sure  ground  of  peace  in  the  hour  of  death.  Every  other  is  then 
found  to  be  insufficient,  and  trusted  in,  ends  in  destruction.  It 
is  not  giving  up  the  breath,  said  the  nobleman  before  referred  to, 
it  is  not  being  forever  insensible,  that  is  the  thought  at  which  I 
shrink  ;  it  is  the  terrible  hereafter,  the  something  beyond  the 
grave,  at  which  I  recoil.  Those  great  realities  which  in  the  hours 
of  mirth  and  vanity  I  have  treated  as  phantoms,  as  the  idle  dreams 
of  superstitious  beings,  these  start  forth  and  dare  me  now  in  their 
most  terrible  demonstrations.  "  O,  my  friends,"  exclaimed  the 
pious  Janeway,  "  we  little  think  what  Christ  is  worth  on  a  death- 


58  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

bed.  I  would  not  now  for  a  world,  nay,  for  millions  of  worlds, 
be  without  Christ  and  pardon."  "God  might  justly  condemn 
me, ' '  said  Richard  Baxter,  ' '  for  the  best  deeds  I  ever  did,  and 
all  my  hopes  are  from  the  free  mercy  of  God  in  Christ. ' ' 

Said  the  meek  and  learned  Hooker,  as  he  approached  his  end, 
"  Though  I  have  by  His  grace  loved  God  in  my  youth  and  feared 
Him  in  my  age,  and  labored  to  have  a  conscience  void  of  offence 
to  Him  and  to  all  men,  yet,  if  Thou,  0  Lord,  be  extreme  to  mark 
what  I  have  done  amiss,  who  can  abide  it  ?  And,  therefore,  where 
I  have  failed,  show  mercy  to  me,  for  I  plead  not  my  righteousness, 
but  the  forgiveness  of  my  unrighteousness,  for  His  merits  who 
died  to  purchase  pardon  for  penitent  sinners. "  Such  too  were  the 
feelings  of  our  own  venerated  Hooker*  in  his  dying  hour.  To  a 
friend  who  said  to  him,  ' '  Sir,  you  are  going  to  receive  the  reward  of 
your  labors,"  he  replied,  "  Brother,  I  am  going  to  receive  mercy." 
And  not  to  mention  other  examples  under  this  head,  let  me  refer 
to  the  case  of  Dr.  Johnson.  He  was  a  moral  man  ;  but  his  mo- 
rality could  not  soften  the  terrors  of  a  death-bed,  nor  give  him  the 
least  peace  in  prospect  of  meeting  his  Judge.  When  a  friend,  to 
calm  his  agitated  mind,  referred  him  to  his  correct  morals  and 
useful  life  for  topics  of  consolation,  he  put  them  away  as  nothing 
worth,  and  in  bitterness  of  soul  exclaimed,  "  Shall  I,  who  have  been 
a  teacher  of  others,  be  myself  cast  away  ?"  This  great  man  had  not 
then  fled  for  refuge  to  the  blood  of  atonement,  as  he  afterward 
did  ;  and  therefore,  notwithstanding  his  moral  and  useful  life,  he 
was  afraid  to  die,  and  all  beyond  the  grave  looked  dark  and 
gloomy  to  him.  And  so  must  it  look  to  all  who  come  to  the 
dying  hour  with  no  better  preparation  than  is  furnished  in  a  moral 
life. 

IV.  Men,  at  the  hour  of  death,  are  constrained  to  acknowl- 
edge the  folly  and  guilt  of  an  irreligious  life,  and  the  supreme 
importance  of  a  saving  interest  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  What- 
ever apologies  are  made  in  the  days  of  health  and  prosperity  for 
the  neglect  of  religion,  those  apologies  are  found  utterly  worthless 
on  a  death-bed,  and  are  renounced  as  vain  and  delusive.  All  ex- 
cuses vanish  in  the  presence  of  the  king  of  terrors,  and  the  sinner 
looks  back  with  self-reproach  and  astonishment  upon  the  presump- 

*  First  pastor  of  the  First  Church  in  Hartford — died  1647. 


CONFESSIONS   OF  DYING  MEN  59 

tion  and  folly  which  led  him  to  disregard  God  and  neglect  the 
concerns  of  His  eternity.  Religion  is  then  felt  to  be  indeed  the 
one  thing  needful,  and  the  whole  earth  too  poor  to  be  given  in 
exchange  for  the  soul.  I  have  attended  many  death-beds  in  the 
course  of  my  ministry,  but  I  recollect  no  instance  where  reason 
was  in  exercise,  in  which  this  acknowledgment  was  not  ready  to 
be  made.  All  are  then  ready  to  exclaim — O,  that  I  had  been 
wise,  that  I  had  understood  and  considered  my  latter  end.  And 
even  Christians,  as  much  as  they  love  and  prize  religion  in  life, 
feel,  when  they  come  to  die,  that  their  highest  and  best  views  of 
its  importance  were  far  below  the  reality.  They  see  then  that  it 
is  the  only  true  wisdom  to  live  for  God  and  eternity,  and  they  are 
amazed  to  think  that  they  have  lived  at  so  poor  a  rate,  and  have 
done  so  little  for  the  honor  of  Christ  and  the  advancement  of  His 
cause  on  earth.  However  men  may  differ  respecting  the  value 
and  importance  of  religion  in  health,  there  is  but  one  opinion  on 
the  subject  when  they  come  to  lie  upon  the  bed  of  death.  The 
great  question  which  then  absorbs  all  others  and  presses  with 
overwhelming  weight  on  the  soul,  is  :  Have  I  a  saving  interest  in 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  ?  Have  I  been  born  of  the  Spirit  ?  Am  I 
pardoned  through  the  blood  of  atonement,  and  prepared  to  appear 
before  my  Judge  in  peace  ?  The  world,  with  all  its  pomp,  pleas- 
ures, and  interests,  then  appears  infinitely  too  light  to  engage  a 
single  thought  in  comparison  with  the  great  question,  Am  I  a 
Christian,  and  may  I  hope  on  good  ground  to  enter  into  the  joy 
of  my  Lord  on  leaving  this  earthly  abode  ?  None  find  peace  and 
hope  in  that  hour  but  those  who  have  fled  for  refuge  to  lay  hold 
on  the  hope  set  before  them  in  the  Gospel.  The  world  retires 
then,  and  leaves  its  wretched  votaries  in  poverty  and  despair.  But 
heaven  comes  near  to  sustain  and  comfort  the  faithful  servants  of 
God,  and  they  feel  that  an  interest  in  Christ  is  of  more  value 
than  a  thousand  worlds  like  this.  Look  at  Enoch  walking  with 
God,  and  through  faith  exempted  from  death,  and  who  was  not 
for  God  took  him  ;  at  David  comforting  himself  in  the  close  of 
life  in  the  assurance  that  God  had  made  an  everlasting  covenant 
with  him,  ordered  in  all  things  and  sure  ;  at  Paul  joyfully  declar- 
ing in  the  near  view  of  death,  "  I  know  in  whom  I  have 
believed  ;"  at  the  dying  missionary,  Ziegenbalger,  exclaiming, 
"  Washed  from  my  sins  in  the  blood  of  Christ,  and  clothed  with 


60  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

His  righteousness,  I  shall  enter  into  His  eternal  kingdom  ;"  at 
Swartz  sweetly  singing  his  soul  away  to  everlasting  bliss  ;  at  Bax- 
ter, saying,  amid  the  sinkings  of  nature,  "  I  am  almost  well  ;"  at 
Owen,  lifting  up  his  eyes  and  his  hands  as  if  in  a  kind  of  rapture, 
and  exclaiming  to  a  friend,  "  O,  brother,  the  long-looked-for  day 
has  come  at  last,  in  which  I  shall  see  the  glory  of  Christ  in  another 
manner  than  I  have  ever  yet  done  ;"  at  Edwards,  comforting  his 
family,  as  they  stood  around  his  dying  bed,  with  the  memorable 
words,  "Trust  in  God,  and  you  have  nothing  to  fear;"  at 
Martyn,  in  the  solitudes  of  Persia,  writing  thus  a  few  days  before 
his  death,  "I  sat  alone,  and  thought  with  sweet  comfort  and 
peace  of  God,  in  solitude  my  company,  my  friend,  and  com- 
forter ;"  at  Dwight,  exclaiming,  when  the  seventeenth  chapter  of 
John  was  read  to  him,  "  O,  what  triumphant  truths  ;"  at  Evarts, 
shouting  "  Glory  !  Jesus  reigns  !"  as  he  closed  his  eyes  on 
death  ;  at  Payson,  uttering  the  language  of  assurance,  as  he  grap- 
pled with  the  last  enemy,  "  The  battle  is  fought  !  the  battle  is 
fought  !  and  the  victory  is  won  forever  !"  In  a  word,  look  at  the 
great  cloud  of  witnesses,  who,  in  the  faith  of  Jesus,  have  triumphed 
over  death  and  the  grave,  and  peacefully  closed  their  eyes  on 
the  world  in  a  joyful  hope  of  opening  them  in  another  and  a 
better,  and  you  will  learn  in  what  estimation  religion  is  held, 
when  the  scenes  of  earth  are  retiring,  and  those  of  eternity  are 
opening  upon  the  vision  of  dying  men. 

When  men  are  laid  upon  the  bed  of  death  and  know  that  they 
must  go  hence  to  be  seen  here  no  more,  they  always  feel  that  it  is 
indeed  a  solemn  thing  to  die  and  pass  into  eternity.  If  there 
be  exceptions,  they  are  very  rare,  and  occur  only  in  cases  of 
extreme  scepticism,  or  of  profound  stupidity.  Hume  could 
amuse  himself  with  playing  chess  when  death  was  at  the  door  ; 
and  Rousseau  could  lightly  talk  of  giving  back  to  God  his  soul  as 
pure  as  when  it  came  from  His  hand.  But  conduct  like  this  is 
the  extreme  of  infatuation,  and  can  be  regarded  in  no  other  light 
than  as  a  part  of  the  accursedness  of  those  who  are  reprobate  of 
God.  Think  of  it  as  we  may,  while  the  event  is  viewed  as  future 
and  distant,  we  shall  all  find,  when  the  last  hour  comes,  that  it  is 
indeed  a  serious  matter  to  die.  To  close  all  our  connection  with 
this  world  ;  to  lie  down  upon  the  bed  from  which  we  shall  never 
rise  up  ;  to  have  our  bodies  turned  to  dust,  and  our  souls  go  into 


CONFESSIONS   OF  DYING  MEN  61 

the  world  of  spirits  to  appear  before  God,  and  pass  the  all -decisive 
trial,  and  enter  upon  a  state  of  being  that  is  never  to  change — 
these  are  events  which  may  well  make  mortals  tremble  and  shrink 
back  at  their  approach.  So  the  dying  nobleman  felt,  whom  I 
have  more  than  once  referred  to,  when  he  said,  "  A  condemned 
wretch  may,  with  as  good  a  grace,  go  dancing  to  his  execution,  as 
the  greatest  part  of  mankind  go  on  with  such  a  thoughtless  gayety 
to  their  graves."  "  A  future  state,"  said  the  Duke  of  Buckingham, 
dying  in  despair,  "  may  well  strike  terror  into  a  man  who  has  not 
acted  well  in  life  ;  and  he  must  have  an  uncommon  share  of 
courage  indeed  who  does  not  shrink  at  the  presence  of  God. ' '  And 
when  Lord  Chesterfield,  sceptic  and  devotee  of  pleasure  as  he 
was,  was  compelled  to  acknowledge,  as  the  closing  scene  drew  on, 
"  When  one  does  see  death  near,  let  the  best  or  the  worst  people 
say  what  they  please,  it  is  a  serious  consideration."  "  Remorse  for 
the  past,"  exclaimed  the  dying  Altamont,  "  throws  my  thoughts  on 
the  future.  Worse  dread  of  the  future  strikes  them  back  on  the 
past.  I  turn  and  turn,  and  find  no  ray.  Death  is  knocking  at 
my  doors  ;  in  a  few  hours  more  I  shall  draw  my  last  gasp  ;  and 
then  the  judgment,  the  tremendous  judgment  !  How  shall  I  ap- 
pear, all  unprepared  as  I  am,  before  the  all-knowing  and  omnipo- 
tent God  ?"  "  O  eternity,  eternity  !"  cried  the  distracted  Newport, 
as  he  lay  upon  his  death-bed,  contemplating  the  solemn  scenes 
before  him,  "  who  can  paraphrase  on  the  words  for  ever  and 
ever  ?" 

Such  are  the  confessions  that  are  wont  to  be  made  by  dying 
men  ;  such  the  feelings  and  thoughts  that  crowd  upon  the  mind 
as  the  last  hour  approaches.  And  in  view  of  them  we  may  re- 
mark— 

i.  They  are  founded  in  truth  ;  there  is  just  cause  for  them.  It 
is  true  that  life  is  short,  and  that  time  is  of  infinite  value.  It  is 
true  that  this  world  contains  nothing  which  can  satisfy  the  wants 
of  the  immortal  mind.  It  is  true  that  a  moral  life  is  utterly  in- 
sufficient as  a  preparation  for  death  and  the  judgment.  It  is  true 
that  an  irreligious  life  is  a  life  of  extreme  folly  and  presumption, 
and  that  a  saving  interest  in  Christ  is  a  matter  of  supreme  impor- 
tance to  every  living  man.  It  is  true  that  it  is  a  solemn  thing  to 
die  and  go  into  eternity,  to  appear  before  a  holy  God.  And  the 
wonder  is,  not  that  dying  men  should  feel  these  things  to  be  true, 


62  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

and  be  deeply  affected  by  them,  but  that  living  men  should  treat 
them  with  indifference,  and  go  through  the  world  contradicting 
the  feelings  and  views  which  are  sure  to  crowd  upon  them  with 
overwhelming  interest  in  the  day  of  death.  Here  is  just  matter  of 
astonishment ;  and  of  all  the  strange  things  that  are  witnessed  in 
the  conduct  of  our  fallen  race,  this  is  the  strangest,  that  men 
should  walk  in  the  midst  of  graves,  convey  their  own  friends  and 
acquaintances  to  the  house  of  silence,  and  meet  every  day  and  in 
every  path  of  life  with  the  most  solemn  monitions  of  their  own  ap- 
proaching end,  and  still  live  as  though  they  were  never  to  die,  and 
shut  their  eyes  on  scenes  which  must  soon  burst  upon  them  in  all 
the  weight  and  solemnity  of  a  present  eternity.      I  remark — ■ 

2.  That  many  of  my  hearers  will,  in  a  short  time,  view  this 
subject  in  a  very  different  light  from  that  in  which  they  now  con- 
template it.  Some  of  you  are  young,  and  in  the  buoyant  feelings 
of  youth  and  health  scarcely  think  it  possible  that  you  may  soon 
be  called  to  death  and  the  judgment.  Some  of  you  are  pro- 
foundly careless  of  your  immortal  well-being,  and  are  so  enamored 
of  the  things  of  the  world  that  you  seldom  think  of  your  latter 
end,  or  of  what  you  need  to  prepare  you  to  die.  Others  of  you 
are  perhaps  sceptical  as  to  the  reality  of  a  change  of  heart  to  fit 
you  for  the  closing  scene,  and  are  trusting  to  a  moral  life  as  a 
foundation  of  hope  in  the  coming  day  of  trial  ;  others  of  you  still, 
who  bear  the  Christian  name,  are  probably  deceived  as  to  the 
ground  of  your  hope,  or  are  living  in  a  state  of  backsliding  from 
God,  awfully  unprepared  for  His  summons  to  leave  the  world. 
To  all  such  the  Son  of  Man  is  likely  to  come  in  an  hour  they 
think  not  of  ;  and  when  He  comes,  they  will  be  thrown  into  fear- 
ful consternation,  and  the  dreams  with  which  they  are  now  de- 
luded will  vanish  forever.  You  have  heard  what  is  the  testimony 
of  dying  men  on  some  points  of  infinite  moment  to  yourselves, 
but  which  you  at  present  regard  with  little  feeling,  and  treat  with 
great  neglect.  But  the  time  is  not  distant  when  you  shall  join 
your  testimony  with  those  that  have  gone  before  you  into  the  in- 
visible world  ;  when  the  scene  of  life  shall  close,  and  your  eternal 
state  commence.  And  whatever  be  your  present  views  and  feel- 
ings, it  is  not  in  the  least  doubtful  what  they  will  be  then. 
Should  you  die  in  the  exercise  of  your  reason,  you  will  look  back 
with  amazement  on  your  present  course  of  life,  and  wonder  how 


CONFESSIONS   OF  DYING  MEN.  63 

you  could  be  so  infatuated  as  to  neglect  God  and  your  souls,  and 
make  no  preparation  for  the  solemn  scenes  of  a  dying  hour. 
Those  of  you  who  are  now  young  will  then  learn  that  you  are  not 
too  young  to  die  ;  and  those  of  you  who  are  living  securely  in 
sin,  that  it  is  indeed  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
living  God  ;  and  those  of  you  who  are  trusting  to  a  moral  life,  that 
you  are  trusting  to  a  foundation  of  sand  ;  and  those  of  you  who 
are  cold  and  formal  in  religion,  that  in  such  a  state  of  mind  you 
are  sadly  unprepared  to  die,  and  render  up  your  account  unto 
God.  Death  will  bring  your  hearts  and  lives  to  a  new  and  severe 
test,  and  draw  from  all  of  you  the  confession  that  to  fear  God  and 
keep  His  commandments  is  the  first  duty  and  the  highest  wisdom 
and  happiness  of  every  living  man.      I  remark — ■ 

3.  It  is  the  part  of  true  wisdom  to  cherish  those  views  and  feel- 
ings now,  which  we  know  we  shall  regard  as  of  supreme  impor- 
tance when  we  come  to  die.  Why  should  any  spend  life  in  treas- 
uring materials  for  sorrow,  disappointment,  and  despair  in  the 
dying  hour  ?  Why  should  any  gather  food  for  the  worm  that 
never  dies,  or  fuel  for  the  fire  that  is  never  quenched  ?  If,  as  we 
draw  near  to  death,  we  shall  regard  life  as  very  short,  and  time  as 
infinitely  valuable,  let  us  regard  them  so  now,  and  be  quickened 
to  do  with  our  might  whatsoever  our  hands  find  to  do.  If  we  shall 
then  feel  that  this  world  is  a  poor  thing,  considered  as  a  portion 
for  the  soul,  let  us  view  it  in  that  light  now,  and  choose  God  as 
our  portion,  and  heaven  as  our  home.  If  a  hope  of  acceptance 
with  God,  built  on  a  mere  moral  life,  will  then  perish  as  a  spider's 
web  and  leave  us  in  despair,  let  us  renounce  that  vain  confidence 
now,  and  build  our  hope  on  that  sure  corner-stone  which  God 
has  laid  in  Zion,  and  which  will  never  disappoint  us.  If  an  im- 
penitent, irreligious  life  will  then  appear  to  us  the  greatest  folly, 
and  a  saving  interest  in  Christ  the  one  thing  needful,  let  us  not 
pursue  such  a  life  any  longer,  but  close  at  once  with  the  Saviour, 
and  follow  Him  as  our  Lord  and  Master  unto  the  end  of  our 
days.  And  if  when  the  end  comes  we  shall  find  it  indeed  a  sol- 
emn thing  to  die  and  go  into  eternity  to  appear  before  God,  let  us 
regard  it  so  now,  and  make  that  preparation  which  will  sustain  us 
in  the  last  conflict,  and  give  us  peace  in    the  day  of  final  decision. 

Look  forward,  then,  immortal  man,  and  endeavor  to  realize 
what  will  be  your  feelings  and  views  in  the  dying  hour,  and  if  you 


64  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

would  be  wise,  begin  without  delay  to  cherish  those  sentiments 
and  pursue  that  course  of  life  which  you  will  then  wish  you  had  ; 
which  will  save  you  from  remorse  and  self-reproach  and  bitter  de- 
spair in  the  great  day  of  the  Lord. 

"  Nothing  is  worth  a  thought  beneath, 
But  how  we  may  escape  that  death 

That  never,  never  dies  ; 
How  make  our  own  election  sure, 
And  when  we  fail  on  earth,  secure 

A  mansion  in  the  skies." 

4.  The  confessions  of  dying  men  are  of  no  avail,  only  as  they 
indicate  the  folly  of  sin  and  the  value  of  religion.  They  do  not 
change  the  character— they  do  not  fit  the  soul  for  death  or  for 
heaven.  Of  the  many  instances  mentioned  in  this  discourse  of 
wicked  men  being  awakened  at  the  close  of  life  to  some  just  view 
of  their  character  and  state,  there  is  not  one  in  which  there  is  any 
evidence  that  they  repented  and  embraced  the  salvation  of  the 
Gospel.  Their  groans,  like  those  of  the  damned,  come  up  to 
proclaim  the  miseries  of  sin,  and  to  warn  the  living  to  avoid  their 
wretched  end.  It  is  not  the  remorse  and  fear  of  a  dying  hour ; 
it  is  not  the  shudderings  of  guilt,  and  the  confusions  and  tears 
which  are  wrung  from  sinners  when  they  find  they  can  enjoy  the 
world  no  longer,  but  must  go  and  give  an  account  of  themselves 
unto  God,  that  can  avail  to  change  the  heart  and  prepare  the  soul 
for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light.  The  strong  bands  of 
sin  are  not  so  dissolved,  nor  is  it  so  that  the  love  of  God  and 
Christ  is  inspired  in  the  bosom,  and  meetness  acquired  for  a  place 
among  the  redeemed  in  heaven.  No,  dear  hearer  ;  if  you  put  off 
religion  till  you  come  to  a  death-bed,  you  will  probably  be  left  to 
put  it  off  forever.  You  will  not  find  it  so  easy  as  you  suppose  to 
cast  off  the  habits  of  sin,  to  believe  in  Christ,  and  make  your 
peace  with  God.  You  may  be  awakened  to  see  your  sin  and 
misery  ;  you  may  bewail  the  stupidity  and  folly  of  your  past  life  ; 
your  misspent  time,  your  abuse  of  privileges,  your  neglects  of  calls 
and  warnings  ;  the  terrors  of  death  and  the  pains  of  hell  may  get 
hold  upon  you,  and  you  may  cry  in  agony  of  spirit  for  help  ;  but 
God  may  leave  you,  as  He  has  other  despisers  of  mercy,  awful 
monuments  to  warn  those  who  survive  you  of  the  danger  of  trifling 
with  the  claims  of  religion  and  the  high  concerns  of  eternity.      Be 


CONFESSIONS   OF  DYING  MEN.  65 

wise,  then,  in  this  your  day,  to  attend  to  the  things  which  belong 
to  your  peace,  lest  they  be  hid  forever  from  your  eyes.  Go  learn 
the  value  of  religion  in  the  peaceful  and  triumphant  death  of  those 
that  die  in  the  Lord  ;  go  learn  its  value  in  the  remorse  and  de- 
spair of  those  that  die  in  neglect  of  Christ  and  His  salvation. 
Then  look  to  the  end  of  life,  and  remember  that  with  one  or  the 
other  of  these  two  classes  of  persons  you  are  to  terminate  your 
mortal  career  :  that  with  the  friends  of  God,  the  followers  of  Jesus, 
you  are  to  bear  your  testimony  to  the  value  of  religion,  in  the  joy 
and  hope  that  will  then  fill  your  bosom  ;  or  with  the  enemies  of 
God  and  the  neglecters  of  the  Saviour,  you  are  to  bear  your  testi- 
mony to  the  guilt  and  misery  of  an  irreligious,  prayerless  life,  in 
the  remorse  and  fear  that  will  then  agitate  and  corrode  the  soul. 
Which,  then,  will  you  do  ? — which  does  conscience  admonish  you 
to  do  ? — which  will  you  wish  you  had  done  in  the  day  when  you 
shall  bid  adieu  to  the  scenes  of  earth,  and  go  to  dwell  among  the 
dead  ?  Decide  now,  and  let  your  life  be  regulated  accordingly. 
Decide  now,  and  let  no  day  or  hour  of  the  year  on  which  you 
have  just  entered  find  you  unprepared  to  meet  the  summons, 
should  it  come,  that  is  to  call  you  out  of  time  into  eternity. 
Hear  the  voices  of  those  who,  during  the  year  past,  departed  from 
this  congregation  into  the  world  of  spirits — eleven  in  all,  ten  of 
whom  were  members  of  the  church,  and  died,  I  trust,  in  good 
hope  of  eternal  life.  Would  you  die  like  them,  and  have  your 
last  end  like  theirs  ?  Then,  as  you  stand  upon  the  threshold  of 
this  new  year,  with  its  unknown  events  before  you,  retreat  a  while 
from  the  snares  and  delusions  of  the  world  ;  shut  your  eyes  upon 
the  scenes  of  time,  upon  which  they  must  soon  be  closed  forever, 
and  converse  with  the  world  to  come — with  death,  judgment,  and 
eternity.  Go  stand  upon  the  shores  of  that  dark,  vast  ocean  you 
must  sail  so  soon,  and  listen  to  the  sound  of  its  waves  till  you  are 
deaf  to  every  sound  besides,  and  then  with  those  solemn  scenes 
around  and  before  you,  endeavor,  with  all  earnestness  and  dili- 
gence, to  gather  about  you  those  resources  of  faith  and  piety  which 
you  will  assuredly  need  in  the  day  when  you  shall  be  called  to 
meet  that  enemy  whom  you  must  conquer,  or  die  forever. 


66  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

A   MOTHER'S   DEATH. 

BY    REV.    ALBERT    BARNES,*    PHILADELPHIA. 

I  bowed  down   heavily,   as    one  that  tnoumeth    for  his  mother. 
— Psalm  xxxv.  14. 

There  is  a  peculiarity  in  every  kind  of  bereavement.  There  is 
enough  to  separate  it  from  all  other  modes  of  trial,  to  produce  a 
peculiar  state  of  feeling,  and  to  convey  its  own  lessons  to  the  soul, 
distinct  from  those  imparted  by  any  other  divine  dispensation. 
The  loss  of  a  wife,  a  friend,  a  companion,  a  sympathizer  in  trials, 
a  fellow-heir  of  the  grace  of  life,  a  sharer  of  the  joys  and  a  divider 
of  the  sorrows  of  our  pilgrimage  ;  of  a  son  who  we  hoped  would 
be  our  stay  and  staff  in  old  age,  and  perpetuate  our  name  when 
we  are  dead  ;  of  a  daughter  whom  we  have  tenderly  nourished 
and  tenderly  loved  ;  of  a  sister,  the  companion  of  the  playful  days 
of  childhood,  and  a  kind  friend  as  she  advanced  with  us  to  the 
maturity  of  life  ;  of  a  father,  the  counsellor  and  guide  of  our 
youth — each  one  of  these  bereavements  has  its  own  sad  lesson  to 
convey  to  the  soul  ;  each  one  touches  a  chord  in  the  heart  which 
vibrates  only  then.  It  is  a  part  of  our  duty  and  discipline  here 
carefully  to  gather  up  these  lessons  and  apply  them  to  our  own 
souls. 

In  the  text  it  is  supposed  that  the  death  of  a  mother  affects  those 
who  are  bereaved  by  her  loss  in  a  peculiar  manner,  and  that  such 
a  loss  is  among  the  heaviest  of  sorrows.  ' '  I  bowed  down  heavily, 
as  one  that  mourneth  for  his  mother."  To  see  the  force  of  this 
text  it  is  not  necessary  to  suppose  that  this  is  the  heaviest  of  all 
the  sorrows  which  we  can  experience,  nor  is  it  necessary  to  make 
any  comparison  between  this  and  the  other  forms  of  bereavement 
which  we  may  be  called  to  endure.  All  that  is  necessary  to  say 
is,  that  there  are  chords  of  the  soul  touched  then  which  have  not 
been  touched  before,  and  which  will  not  be  again.  A  man  has 
but  one  mother  to  love  ;  and  when  such  an  event  occurs  it  is 
well  for  him  to  endeavor  to  learn  the  lessons  which  God  once  in 
his  life  designs  to  teach  him. 

*On  the  occasion  of  his  mother's  death. 


A  MOTHER'S  DEATH.  67 

It  is  the  duty  of  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  to  adapt  his  teaching 
to  all  the  relations  of  life,  and  to  apply  the  lessons  of  religion  to 
the  various  circumstances  in  which  his .  hearers  may  be  placed. 
At  no  one  time  indeed  can  it  be  supposed  that  any  considerable 
part  of  his  audience  will  feel  an  immediate  interest  in  a  topic  of 
this  kind  ;  but  there  are  usually  enough  who  have  been  recently 
afflicted  in  this  manner  to  make  such  a  topic  of  public  discourse 
proper.  Besides,  how  large  a  portion  in  a  congregation  is  there 
who  have  at  some  time  been  thus  bereaved  !  How  many  are 
there  here  to-day  who  at  some  period  of  their  lives  have  known 
what  it  was  to  lose  a  mother  !  It  will  be  no  injury  to  recall  the 
memory  of  that  scene — not  for  the  purpose  of  opening  wounds 
again  which  time  and  religion  may  have  healed— but  to  make 
more  fresh  in  the  recollection  the  lessons  which  God  des'gned  to 
convey  by  the  living  virtues,  and  by  the  death  of  a  mother.  It 
may  be  useful,  too,  to  those  who  have  mothers  from  whom  they 
may  soon  be  called  to  part,  to  contemplate  this  relation,  and  to 
be  told  of  the  kind  of  emotions  which  spring  up  in  the  soul  when 
a  parent  is  taken  away  to  be  seen  no  more.  It  may  teach  you  to 
prize  their  counsels  and  their  friendship  more  ;  it  may  make  you 
more  careful  not  to  pain  their  hearts  by  unkindness  or  disobedi- 
ence. 

I  shall  make  no  comparison  between  this  relation  and  that  of  a 
father.  That  is  in  many  respects  as  important  and  as  influential 
as  this  ;  and  when  that  is  sundered,  the  bereavement  as  much  de- 
mands the  tribute  of  our  tears,  and  conveys  as  important  lessons 
to  the  soul.  Perhaps  in  some  cases  there  may  be  more  to  affect 
the  heart  in  such  a  loss,  for  some  of  us  may  owe  more  to  the  in- 
herited mental  characteristics,  and  the  example  and  the  direct 
teaching  of  a  father,  than  we  do  to  a  mother.  But  though  this 
may  be  so,  the  remarks  which  I  propose  to  submit  to  you  now, 
will,  I  trust,  be  seen  to  be  founded  in  truth.  Without  any  very 
exact  order,  yet  with  such  a  general  distribution  of  my  thoughts  as 
will  be  adapted,  I  hope,  to  make  a  distinct  impression  on  the 
mind,  I  shall  submit  to  you  a  few  reflections  on  such  a  relation, 
and  such  a  loss,  which  I  trust  may  be  fitted  to  be  useful. 

I.  I  need  hardly  say  that  -'the  relation  of  a  mother  is  a  peculiar 
relation,  and  has  features  which  are  found  in  no  other.  The  tie 
is  one  which  exists  nowhere  else  ;  which  can  never  be  renewed  ; 


68  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

which,  when  it  is  sundered,  is  sundered  forever,  unless  it  is 
cemented  by  religion,  and  grows  up  into  eternal  affection  in  the 
heavens. 

Her  affection  for  us  began  at  a  period  of  which  we  have  no  rec- 
ollection, and  when  we  were  not  conscious  that  any  being  loved 
us./  It  was  laid  far  back  in  her  nature,  by  a  benignant  Provi- 
dence, to  anticipate  our  helplessness  and  our  wants  as  we  came 
into  the  world.  It  began  when  as  yet  we  had  manifested  no 
qualities  of  mind  or  heart  to  deserve  affection  ;  when  we  were  in- 
capable of  returning  the  tokens  of  her  love  ;  when  we  could  not 
give  back  the  kiss  that  was  tenderly  impressed  upon  us,  and  when 
it  was  certain  that  the  expressions  of  her  lavished  affection  could 
not  be  remembered  by  us  should  we  ever  reach  a  period  when  we 
would  be  capable  of  repaying  appreciated  kindness.  It  existed 
in  her  heart  whatever  we  were  to  be,  or  whatever  was  to  be  our 
fortune  in  this  world,  and  was  so  strong  that  even  could  she  have 
foreseen  all  our  ingratitude,  and  all  that  we  might  yet  do  to  pain 
her,  she  would  still  have  loved  us,  and  perhaps  her  caresses  would 
have  been  only  the  more  tender  while  we  were  yet  innocent,  and 
our  souls  were  uncontaminated  by  contact  with  evil.  She  met  us 
as  we  entered  on  life  already  prepared  to  do  us  good.  Her  first 
emotion  toward  us  was  that  of  love  ;  and  even  then,  when  we  had 
no  character,  and  no  claim  for  services  rendered  ;  when  we  had 
furnished  no  evidence  that  we  ever  would  be  worthy  of  her  love, 
or  repay  her  kindness  with  anything  but  ingratitude,  she  was  ready 
to  do  for  us  what  we  may  have  even  now  scarcely  secured  a  friend 
to  do  by  all  our  virtues.  Not  a  friend  have  we  now  who  would 
watch  more  patiently  by  our  sick-bed  than  she  would  have  done 
by  our  cradle  then,  nor  have  we  one  who  would  sorrow  more  sin- 
cerely over  our  grave.  This  care  we  owed  primarily  to  God,  and 
under  Him  to  that  affection  which  He  had  created  in  her  heart. 

"  Unnumbered  comforts  on  my  soul, 
Thy  tender  care  bestowed, 
Before  my  infant  heart  conceived 
From  whom  those  comforts  flowed." 

The  affection  thus  laid  in  her  heart  to  anticipate  our  necessities 
was  strengthened  on  her  part  by  all  her  own  toil,  and  care,  and 
watchfulness,  and  sacrifices  on  our  behalf.  Whatever  might  be 
the  effect  on  us,  the  effect  on  her  was  to  make  her  love  us  more. 


A   MOTHER'S  DEATH.  69 

Her  own  solicitude  and  toil  became  thus  a  measure  of  her  aug- 
mented affection  ;  for  God  has  instructed  us  to  love  much  that 
which  is  the  fruit  of  sacrifice  and  toil.  Her  love  for  us  was  meas- 
ured far  more  by  her  own  sacrifices  than  by  our  own  worth,  or  by 
any  developed  traits  of  character  which  seemed  to  justify  her  ardor 
of  affection,  though  it  was  also  strengthened  on  her  part  by  every- 
thing in  us — then  estimated  perhaps  at  more  than  twice  its  value 
— which  seemed  to  reward  her  care.  On  our  part  the  attachment 
formed  is  not  that  which  grows  out  of  favors  rendered,  but  favors 
received.  It  is  laid  indeed  in  nature  ;  but  it  grows  up  and  ex- 
pands because  we  receive  so  many  benefits  ;  because  there  is  such 
an  obligation  of  gratitude  ;  because  we  learn  more  and  more,  as 
we  advance  in  years,  how  much  we  owe  to  a  mother. 

The  attachment  for  a  mother  is  different  from  that  which  we 
have  for  a  brother  or  sister.  That  may  be  exceedingly  tender  and 
pure.  Indeed,  there  is  nothing  more  pure  in  our  relations  than 
love  for  a  sister.  But  it  is  formed  in  a  different  way.  When  the 
tie  which  binds  us  to  her  is  severed,  it  cannot  indeed  be  renewed  ; 
it  makes  a  sad  desolation  in  the  soul  ;  but  it  is  not  precisely  the 
sorrow  which  we  have  when  we  "bow  down  heavily,  mourning 
for  a  mother."  We  love  a  sister,  for  we  began  life  together, 
under  the  same  rouf,  under  the  fostering  care  of  the  same  parents. 
We  played  together  in  childhood  ;  we  shared  the  same  gentle 
amusements  ;  we  went  to  the  same  school  ;  we  had  the  same 
father  to  counsel  and  guide  us  ;  and  had  the  same  mother  to  teach 
us  to  pray,  and  to  give  us  the  parting  kiss  at  night.  We  grew  up 
equally  beloved  by  our  parents,  and  we  have  learned  to  love  each 
other  much  by  mutual  acts  of  affection  and  kindness. 

The  attachment  is  different  from  those  friendships  which  we 
form  as  we  advance  in  life.  Those  may  be  dear,  and  they  may 
be  stronger  than  that  which  binds  to  a  mother,  but  they  are  not 
the  same.  A  man  leaves  father  and  mother  and  cleaves  to  his 
wife  with  an  affection  more  tender  and  strong  than  that  formed  by 
any  natural  relation,  but  it  is  not  the  same.  He  forms  strong 
friendships  in  life,  like  that  which  bound  the  heart  of  David  and 
Jonathan,  but  such  friendships  did  not  begin  as  we  entered  on 
life,  nor  imbed  themselves  in  the  soft  heart  of  infancy  and  child- 
hood, nor  are  they  cemented  by  so  many  acts  of  kindness. 

The  attachment  to  a  mother  is  different  from  that  which  we 


70  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

form  for  our  children.  It  is  what  we  expect  of  them,  rather  than 
what  we  feel  for  them.  We  love  them  much — even  as  she  did  us. 
But  it  is  a  love  for  them  as  our  children  ;  as  dependent  on  us  ;  as 
helpless  ;  as  needing  our  care  and  counsel  ;  as  a  part  of  our- 
selves ;  as  those  who  we  hope  will  do  us  honor  when  we  are  dead. 
These  attachments  which  we  form  in  after  life,  of  nature  and 
affection,  are  strong  and  tender  ;  they  may  be  more  immediatley 
tender  than  those  which  we  bear  for  a  parent  ;  grief  may  be  more 
poignant  when  they  are  sundered  by  death,  and  when  we  follow 
wife  or  child  to  the  grave,  but  it  has  its  own  features,  distinct 
from  that  when  a  venerable  and  much  loved  parent  is  conveyed  to 
the  tomb.  As  there  was  a  peculiarity  of  attachment,  so  there  will 
be  a  peculiarity  of  sorrow  such  as  we  are  not  to  experience   again. 

II.  I  notice  a  second  peculiarity  of  feature  in  this  kind  of 
bereavement.  It  is  in 'the  change  which  is  produced  in  our  ideas 
of  home — the  home  of  our  childhood  and  youth.  When  she 
lived  there,  there  was  always  a  home — a  place  which  in  every  situ- 
ation of  life  we  felt  was  such,  and  which  we  regarded  as  such. 

In  our  childhood  and  youth  there  was  in  that  home  where  she 
was,  one  who  always  cared  for  us,  and  for  all  that  appertained  to 
us.  f  There  was  one  who  we  were  sure  would  take  an  interest  in 
everything  that  we  took  an  interest  in,  and  whose  ear  we  were  cer- 
tain would  be  open  to  listen  to  all  our  tales  of  childish  success  or 
of  childish  trouble.  We  were  sure  that  she  would  take  the  same 
interest  in  it  which  we  did,  and  we  expected  confidently  that 
whoever  might  be  against  us,  she  would  be  for  us.  We  never 
had  a  doubt  that  she  would  listen  to  our  tale  of  fright,  of  disap- 
pointment, of  calamity  ;  nor  that  she  would  feel  just  as  we  did 
about  it.  The  matter  might  be  in  itself  important  or  unimpor- 
tant ;  it  might  be  dignified  or  undignified,  yet  we  never  doubted 
that  she  would  regard  it  as  important,  and  as  sufficiently  momen- 
tous to  claim  her  attention.  We  might  have  felt  that  it  was  not 
grave  enough  to  tell  a  father  about  ;  we  might  have  doubted 
whether  he  would  suspend  his  more  weighty  employments  to  in- 
terest himself  in  our  affairs  ;  but  we  never  had  such  a  doubt  for  a 
moment  about  a  mother.  No  matter  what  her  employments,  or 
her  cares,  or  what  she  might  be  interested  in,  we  were  sure  that 
she  would  be  interested  in  us,  and  that,  in  all  our  troubles,  we 
should  find  her  our  friend.     We  had  our  difficulties  in  the  little 


A  MOTHER'S  DEATH.  71 

world  of  childhood.  Bigger  and  older  boys  struck  us,  or  laughed 
at  us,  or  reviled  us,  or  surpassed  us  in  learning,  in  running,  or  in 
skill,  and  in  that  little  world  we  might  have  found  no  sympathy, 
and  there  was  no  one  there  to  whom  we  could  unburden  an  ach- 
ing heart.  But  we  were  sure  that  there  was  one  who  would  sym- 
pathize with  us,  and  who  would  be  on  our  side.  Our  playmates 
derided  us,  and  laughed  at  us  because  we  said,  in  our  simplicity, 
that  we  would  "tell  mother."  And  yet  it  was  philosophy  deep 
and  pure  to  do  so — like  the  pure  crystal  spring  that  breaks  out 
of  the  side  of  a  hill  in  the  uncultivated  forest.  It  was  what 
nature  prompted  to — for  nature  designed  that  she  should  know 
our  troubles,  and  nature  had  formed  for  us  such  a  friend  there, 
that,  whoever  was  against  us,  we  might  know  she  would  be  on  our 
side  ;  whoever  wronged  us,  she  would  not ;  whoever  exulted  over 
us,  she  would  not  join  in  the  exultation.  You  may  say  that  this 
is  childish  philosophy.  So  it  may  be  ;  and  the  nearer  our  philos- 
ophy comes  back  to  simple  nature  as  developed  there,  the  nearer 
we  shall  be  to  truth.  In  our  troubles  we  have  always  needed  a 
friend  who  would  sympathize  with  us,  and  to  whom  we  might  un- 
burden all  the  sorrows  of  the  soul.  The  disciples  of  John's  Re- 
deemer "  came,  and  took  up  his  murdered  body,  and  buried  it, 
and  went  and  told  Jesus"  (Matt.  xiv.  12).  In  Him  they  had  a 
friend — tender  and  delicate  above  all  a  mother's  feelings — who 
they  were  sure  would  sympathize  with  their  sorrows  ;  and  what 
was  more  natural  than  that  they  should  go  and  tell  Him  ?  So  in 
the  home  of  our  childhood,  it  was  dear  to  us  as  a  home,  for  there 
was  not  a  sorrow  of  our  heart  that  we  might  not  tell  our  mother. 

Many  of  us — most  of  us  who  are  advanced  beyond  the  period 
of  childhood — went  out  from  that  home  to  embark  on  the  stormy 
sea  of  life.  Of  the  feelings  of  a  father,  and  of  his  interest  in  our 
welfare,  we  have  never  entertained  a  doubt,  and  our  home  was 
dear  because  he  was  there  ;  but  there  was  a  peculiarity  in  the 
feeling  that  it  was  the  home  of  our  mother.  While  she  lived 
there,  there  was  a  place  that  we  felt  was  home.  There  was  one 
place  where  we  would  always  be  welcome  ;  one  place  where  we 
would  be  met  with  a  smile  ;  one  place  where  we  would  be  sure  of  a 
friend.  The  world  might  be  indifferent  to  us.  We  might  be  un- 
successful in  our  studies  or  our  business.  The  new  friends  which 
we  supposed  we  had  made,  might  prove  to  be  false.  The  honor 
which  we  thought  we  deserved,  might  be  withheld  from  us.     We 


72  PULPIT  AND   GRAVE. 

might  be  chagrined  and  mortified  by  seeing  a  rival  outstrip  us, 
and  bear  away  the  prize  which  we  sought ;  but  there  was  a  place 
where  no  feelings  of  rivalry  were  found,  and  where  those  whom 
the  world  overlooked  would  be  sure  of  a  friendly  greeting. 
Whether  pale  and  wan  by  study,  care,  or  sickness,  or  flushed 
with  health  and  flattering  success,  we  were  sure  that  we  should  be 
welcome  there.  Though  the  world  was  cold  toward  us,  yet  there 
was  one  who  always  rejoiced  in  our  success,  and  always  was 
affected  in  our  reverses — and  there  was  a  place  to  which  we  might 
go  back  from  the  storm  which  began  to  pelt  us,  where  we  might 
rest,  and  become  encouraged  and  invigorated  for  a  new  conflict. 
So  have  I  seen  a  bird  in  its  first  efforts  to  fly,  leave  its  nest,  and 
stretch  its  wings  and  go  forth  to  the  wide  world.  But  the  wind 
blew  it  back  and  the  rain  began  to  fall,  and  the  darkness  of  night 
began  to  draw  on,  and  there  was  no  shelter  abroad,  and  it  sought 
its  way  back  to  its  nest,  to  take  shelter  beneath  its  mother's  wings, 
and  to  be  refreshed  for  the  struggles  of  a  new  day  ;  but  then  it 
flew  away  to  think  of  its  nest  and  its  mother  no  more.  But  not 
thus  did  we  leave  our  home  when  we  bade  adieu  to  it  to  go  forth 
alone  to  the  manly  duties  of  life.  Even  amid  the  storms  that 
then  beat  upon  us,  and  the  disappointments  that  we  met  with, 
and  the  coldness  of  the  world,  we  felt  still  that  there  was  one  there 
who  sympathized  in  our  troubles  as  well  as  rejoiced  in  our  success, 
and  that,  whatever  might  be  abroad,  when  we  entered  the  door  of 
her  dwelling,  we  should  be  met  with  a  smile.  We  expected  that 
a  mother,  like  the  mother  of  Sisera,  as  she  ' '  looked  out  at  her 
window"  waiting  for  the  coming  of  her  son  laden  with  the  spoils 
of  victory,  would  look  out  for  our  coming,  and  that  our  return 
would  renew  her  joy  and  ours  in  our  earlier  days. 

"  Oh  !  in  our  sterner  manhood,  when  no  ray 
Of  earlier  sunshine  glimmers  on  our  way  ; 
When  girt  with  sin,  and  sorrow,  and  the  toil 
Of  cares,  which  tear  the  bosom  that  they  soil  ; 
Oh  !  if  there  be  in  restrospection's  chain 
One  link  that  knits  us  with  young  dreams  again, 
One  thought  so  sweet,  we  scarcely  dare  to  muse 
On  all  the  hoarded  raptures  it  reviews, 
Which  seems  each  instant,  in  its  backward  range, 
The  heart  to  soften,  and  its  ties  to  change. 
And  every  spring  untouched  for  years,  to  move. 
It  is— The  Memory  of  a  Mother's  Love  !" 


A  MOTHER'S  DEATH.  73 

It  makes  a  sad  desolation  when  from  such  a  place  a  mother  is 
taken  away — and  when,  whatever  may  be  the  sorrows  or  the  suc- 
cesses in  life,  she  is  to  greet  the  returning  sori  or  daughter  no 
more.  The  home  of  our  childhood  may  be  still  lovely.  The  old 
family  mansion  ;  the  green  fields  ;  the  running  stream  ;  the  moss- 
covered  well  ;  the  trees  ;  the  lawn  ;  the  rose  ;  the  sweet-brier, 
may  be  there.  Perchance,  too,  there  may  be  an  aged  father,  with 
venerable  locks,  sitting  in  his  loneliness,  with  everything  to  com- 
mand respect  and  love  ;  but  she  is  not  there.  Her  familiar  voice 
is  not  heard.  The  mother  has  been  borne  forth  to  sleep  by  the 
side  of  her  children  who  went  before  her,  and  the  place  is  not 
what  it  was.  There  may  be  those  whom  we  much  love,  but  she 
is  not  there.  We  may  have  formed  new  relations  in  life — tender 
and  strong  as  they  can  be  ;  we  may  have  another  home  dear  to  us 
as  was  the  home  of  our  childhood,  where  there  is  all  in  affection, 
kindness,  and  religion  to  make  us  happy  ;  but  that  home  is  not 
what  it  was,  and  it  will  never  be  what  it  was  again.  There  is  a 
loosening  of  one  of  the  cords  which  bound  us  to  earth — designed 
to  prepare  us  for  our  eternal  flight  from  everything  dear  here 
below,  and  to  teach  us  that  there  is  no  place  here  that  is  to  be 
our  permanent  home. 

III.  I  notice  a  third  thing  in  such  an  event  which  is  found  to 
convey  a  lesson  to  the  soul  such  as  we  always  feel  in  bereavement, 
but  which,  like  the  other  things  adverted  to,  has  a  peculiarity  of 
its  own.  I  refer  to  a  class  of  emotions  often  not  less  painful,  and 
of  a  much  more  admonitory  character,  than  those  which  I  have 
adverted  to,  and  which,  such  are  our  imperfections  in  all  the  re- 
lations of  life,  we  are  alwav^  destined  to  feel  when  a  friend  is  re- 
moved by  death.  I  mean  the  quickened  recollection  of  our  neg- 
lects, of  our  acts  of  unkindness,  of  our  ingratitude,  of  our  im- 
proper feelings  in  our  intercourse  with  those  whom  Ave  have  lost. 

What  I  now  advert  to  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  benig- 
nant laws  of  our  nature — one  of  the  most  delicate  arrangements  to 
bring  our  guilt  to  remembrance  in  order  that  we  may  exercise 
true  repentance,  and  to  prompt  us  to  kindness  and  fidelity  in  the 
remaining  relations  of  life,     jf 

This  law  of  our  nature,  which  cannot  well  be  explained  except 
on  the  supposition  that  there  is  a  moral  government,  and  that 
God  designs  that  all  our  sins  shall    be  brought  to    our  remem- 


74  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

brance,  is  this — that  in  the  death  of  a  friend  we  instinctively  recall 
the  wrongs  that  we  may  have  done  him  ;  for  some  mysterious 
power  seems  to  summon  them  up  from  the  land  of  forgetfulness, 
and  to  cause  them  to  pass  in  solemn  procession  before  us.  Things 
which  we  had  forgotten  ;  words  which  we  long  since  uttered  but 
which  had  passed  from  the  memory  ;  expressions  of  irritated  feel- 
ing ;  unjust  suspicions  ;  jealousies  ;  neglect  of  the  respect  or  the 
courtesies  due  in  that  relation  of  life  ;  a  want  of  attention  when 
the  heart  of  the  friend  was  sad  ;  want  of  sympathy  in  his  successes 
or  reverses — all  seem  to  revive  as  we  stand  around  the  open  grave, 
and  as  the  coffin  of  the  friend  descends  there,  they  are  quickened 
into  life — as  the  dead  man  was  by  the  bones  of  Elisha.  How 
this  is  so,  as  a  matter  of  moral  administration,  we  may  not  be 
able  to  explain.  Perhaps  it  is  because,  though  conscious  in 
general  that  we  had  erred  in  that  relation,  we  still  hoped  that  the 
friend  would  somehow  forgive  us — but  now  he  has  gone  to  the 
grave,  and  now  we  can  never  ask  him  to  pardon  us.  Perhaps  it 
is  that  we  look  on  him  now  as  a  sufferer — and  pity  his  condition 
— and  all  his  sources  of  sorrow  seem  summoned  to  aggravate  his 
condition,  and  among  others  the  wrongs  that  we  have  done  arise 
to  our  view  as  a  bitter  ingredient  in  .his  cup  of  woes.  Perhaps  it 
is  that  God  meant  so  to  make  the  conscience  that  it  would  not 
always  slumber,  and  designed  that  once  at  least  it  should  do  its 
appropriate  work. 

This  law  of  our  nature  has  been  so  beautifully  described  by  one 
of  our  best  American  writers,  that  I  can  do  nothing  so  well  as  to 
copy  his  words  :  "  Oh  the  grave  !  the  grave  !  It  buries  every 
error,  covers  every  defect,  extinguishes  every  resentment.  From 
this  peaceful  bosom  spring  none  but  fond  regrets  and  tender  recol- 
lections. Who  can  look  down  even  upon  the  grave  of  an  enemy, 
and  not  feel  a  compunctious  throb  that  he  ever  should  have  war- 
red with  the  poor  handful  of  earth  that  lies  mouldering  before 
him  ?  But  the  grave  of  those  we  loved — what  a  place  for  medita- 
tion !  There  it  is  that  we  call  up  in  long  review  the  whole  history 
of  the  truth  and  gentleness,  and  the  thousand  endearments  lavished 
upon  us,  almost  unheard  in  the  daily  course  of  intimacy  ;  there  it 
is  we  dwell  upon  the  tenderness  of  the  parting  scene,  the  bed  of 
death  with  all  its  stifled  grief,  its  noiseless  attendants,  its  most 
watchful  assiduities — the  last    testimonies   of  expiring  love,    the 


A  MOTHER'S  DEATH. 


75 


feeble,  fluttering,  thrilling — oh  how  thrilling  is  the  fluttering  pulse 
— the  last  fond  look  of  the  glazing  eye,  turning  upon  us  from  the 
threshold  of  existence — the  faint,  faltering  accent,  struggling  in 
death  to  give  one  more  assurance  of  affection.  Oh,  go  to  the 
grave  of  buried  love,  and  there  meditate.  There  settle  the  ac- 
count with  thy  conscience  of  every  past  endearment  unregarded  of 
that  departed  being  who  never,  never  can  be  soothed  by  contri- 
tion. If  thou  art  a  child,  and  hast  ever  added  a  sorrow  to  the 
soul,  or  a  furrow  to  the  silvered  brow  of  an  affectionate  parent — if 
thou  art  a  husband,  and  hast  ever  caused  the  fond  bosom  that  ven- 
tured its  whole  happiness  in  thy  arms  to  doubt  one  moment  of  thy 
kindness  or  thy  truth  — or  if  thou  art  a  friend,  and  hast  injured  by 
thought,  by  word,  or  deed,  the  spirit  that  generously  confided  in 
thee — if  thou  art  a  lover,  and  hast  ever  given  one  unmerited  pang 
to  the  true  heart  that  now  lies  cold  beneath  thy  feet,  then  be  sure 
that .  every  unkind  look,  every  ungracious  word,  every  ungentle 
action  will  come  thronging  back  upon  thy  memory,  and  knock 
dolefully  at  thy  soul  ;  be  sure  that  thou  wilt  lie  down  sorrowing 
and  repenting  on  the  grave,  and  utter  the  unheard  groan,  and 
pour  the  unavailing  tear,  bitter  because  unheard  and  unavailing." 

Who,  I  may  .add,  ever  saw  an  endeared  friend  die,  and  did  not 
feel  that  there  were  things  in  his  intercourse  with  him  to  regret, 
and  for  which  he  would  now  desire  to  ask  forgiveness  ?  Who 
ever  saw  a  man  die  of  whom  he  had  said  hard  hings,  or  thought 
hard  things,  who  did  not  lament  that  he  had  given  indulgence  to 
such  words  and  feelings  ?  Who  ever  attended  one  to  the  grave — 
friend  or  foe,  partner  or  rival,  with  whom  he  had  been  at  variance, 
who  did  not  now  wish  to  have  it  all  buried  in  oblivion  ?  Who 
can  carry  his  enmity  to  the  grave  ?  There,  when  a  rival  or  a  foe 
is  laid  "  earth  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust,"  we  lay  our 
animosities  aside.  There  we  feel,  that  whatever  may  be  true  of 
him  whom  we  commit  to  the  tomb,  there  was  much  in  us  that  was 
wrong.  And  there  we  regret  every  unkind  word,  feel  pained  at 
the  remembrance  of  every  unkind  thought,  and  mourn  that  we 
have  done  no  more  to  impart  happiness  to  the  cold  sleeper  whom 
we  are  to  see  no  more. 

I  said  that  this  was  a  beautiful  and  benignant  law  of  our  nature, 
and  though  attended  like  other  laws  when  violated,  with  pain,  the 
design  is  as  apparent  as  it  is  beautiful.      It  has  two  objects  as  a 


76  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

part  of  the  divine  moral  administration.  One  is  to  lead  us  to  re- 
pentance for  our  errors  and  faults,  that  we  may  obtain  pardon  of 
our  God  before  it  be  too  late.  True,  the  sleeper  there  cannot 
now  utter  the  word  of  forgiveness.  Those  lips  are  forever  sealed 
in  death — and  how  much  would  we  give  now  could  we  ask  that 
friend  to  forgive  us  !  How  much  would  we  rejoice  could  we  have 
the  assurance  from  those  lips  that  the  faults  that  now  come  throng- 
ing on  our  memory  were  forgiven  and  forgotten,  and  that  they 
did  not  add  a  pang  to  his  last  sorrows  !  But  if  we  cannot  now 
confess  the  fault  in  the  ear  of  that  friend  ;  if  we  cannot  now  hope 
that  those  lips  will  open  to  declare  us  forgiven,  we  may  confess 
the  fault  to  God,  and  may  be  assured  that  He  will  blot  the  re- 
membrance of  it  from  His  book.  Around  each  grave  of  a 
friend,  therefore,  He  summons  up  groups  of  our  past  offences  that 
we  may  be  humbled  and  penitent,  and  may  not  go  unpardoned 
to  eternity.  The  other  design  of  this  benignant  law  is,  to  keep  us 
from  offending  hereafter  ;  to  teach  us  to  manifest  kindness  in  the 
remaining  relations  of  life.  True,  we  cannot  again  injure,  or 
offend,  or  pain  the  sleeper  there.  Whatever  may  be  his  condition 
now,  he  is  where  our  unkindness  or  neglect  will  not  reach  or  affect 
him.  But  we  have  other  relations  in  life,  perhaps  equally  tender 
and  equally  important.  There  are  other  hearts  that  may  be  made 
to  bleed  by  ingratitude,  or  coldness,  or  neglect,  or  mercy,  and 
we  may  be  assured  that  what  has  happened  in  the  case  of  the 
friend  that  we  have  now  lost,  will  happen  also  in  theirs.  The  de- 
sign of  the  law  is,  to  teach  us  to  indulge  no  thought,  to  speak  no 
word,  to  evince  no  feeling  which  we  would  regret  when  they  too 
are  removed.  And  what  a  restraint  would  this  be  on  our  temper, 
our  words,  our  whole  deportment  ! 

In  each  bereavement  there  is  a  peculiar  group  of  these  painful 
thoughts  that  come  thronging  to  the  recollection.  They  are  those 
which  are  revived  by  that  bereavement,  but  would  be  unaffected 
by  any  other.  How  many  such  things  there  are  laid  away  in  the 
chambers  of  the  soul,  now  slumbering  there  like  torpid  adders, 
perhaps  hereafter  to  be  quickened  into  life  to  be  our  tormentors  ! 
The  occasion  requires  me  only  to  allude  to  that  class  of  emotions 
which  is  thus  summoned  to  our  recollection  on  the  death  of  a 
mother.  And  who  is  there  of  us  that  can  see  a  mother  die  with- 
out many  such  painful  and  disquieting  thoughts — greatly  embitter- 


A   MOTHER'S  DEATH.  77 

ing  the  natural  grief  of  parting  ?  Even  while  we  were  conscious 
of  having  had  for  her  strong  and  tender  love  ;  even  when  in  the 
main  we  desired  to  respect  her  and  to  make  her  happy  ;  even 
when  we  knew  that  our  general  character  has  been  approved  by 
her,  and  that  in  life  thus  far  we  had  not  disappointed  her  fond 
anticipations,  yet  how  many  times  in  childhood  have  we  been  dis- 
obedient, how  often  have  we  spoken  disrespectfully,  how  often 
have  we  disregarded  her  wishes,  how  often  have  we  uttered  senti- 
ments peevishly  that  we  knew  differed  from  hers  ;  how  often  have 
we  failed  in  rendering  that  prompt  and  ready  obedience  which 
was  due  to  her  as  a  mother,  and  to  her  kindness  to  us  ;  how 
many  times  by  our  perverseness,  our  self-will,  our  pride,  our  ob- 
stinacy, have  we  discouraged  her  in  her  efforts  to  do  us  good  ; 
how  often  have  we  done  that  which  would  weary  out  the  patience 
of  any  one  but  a  parent — and  God.  Could  we  hear  her  speak 
again,  how  many  things  are  there  which  we  would  wish  to  confess, 
and  which  we  would  desire  her  to  forgive  ! 

There  are  lessons  flowing  from  this  subject  adapted  to  those 
who  are  more  particularly  interested  from  having  recently  been 
called  to  this  trial — lessons  requiring  us  to  submit  to  God  ;  to  be 
grateful  for  the  example,  and  counsels,  and  toils  in  our  behalf  of 
those  who  have  been  removed  ;  to  imitate  them  as  they  imitated 
their  Saviour,  and  to  be  prepared  to  follow  them  to  the  world  of 
glory.  But  on  these  I  will  not  dwell.  There  are  two  thoughts, 
however,  which,  in  conclusion,  I  will  suggest,  addressed  to  two 
classes  of  my  hearers. 

1.  The  first  relates  to  those  who  have  had  pious  mothers,  who 
are  now  removed  to  heaven,  but  whose  prayers  and  counsels  they 
have  disregarded.  I  refer  to  those  who  have  thus  far  withheld 
their  hearts  from  that  Saviour  whom  their  mother  loved,  and  with 
whom  she  now  dwells  ;  who  have  embraced  sentiments  such  as 
they  know  she  would  not  approve  ;  who  have  made  choice  of 
companions  such  as  she  lived  to  warn  them  against ;  or  who  in- 
dulge in  scenes  of  revelry  and  sin  such  as,  if  she  were  living,  you 
know  would  break  her  heart.  Go,  young  man,  and  walk  in  the 
stillness  of  the  evening  among  the  graves.  Beneath  your  feet,  in 
the  sacred  slumbers  of  a  Christian  death,  lies  a  much-loved 
mother.  How  calm  her  slumbers  !  How  sweet  the  spot  !  How 
lovely  a  mother's  grave  !     How  the  memory  delights  to  go  back 


78  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

to  the  nursery,  the  fireside,  the  sick-bed,  the  anxious  care 
of  a  mother  !  How  it  loves  to  recall  her  gentle  look,  her  eye 
of  love,  her  kiss  at  night !  At  that  grave,  thoughtless  young  man, 
think  of  thy  revels,  thy  neglect  of  God,  thy  forgetful ness  of  the 
prayer  that  she  taught  thee,  thy  friendship  now  for  those  against 
whom  she  warned  thee  !  She  sleeps  now  in  death  ;  but  from  that 
grave  is  it  fancy  that  we  hear  a  voice  :  ' '  My  beloved  son  !  Is 
this  the  life  that  I  taught  thee  to  lead  ?  Are  these  the  pleasures 
which  I  taught  thee  to  pursue  ?  Did  I  bear  thee,  and  toil  for 
thee,  and  wear  out  my  life,  that  I  might  train  thee  for  sin,  and 
death,  and  hell  ?." 

2.  The  other  thought  relates  to  those  who  now  have  a  Christian 
mother — and  who  yet  disregard  her  living  counsels  and  prayers. 
I  have  adverted  to  a  law  of  our  being,  beautiful  in  its  nature,  but 
painful  in  its  inflictions.  The  day  is  coming  when  that  mother 
will  die.  You  may  see  her  die  ;  or  far  away,  you  may  hear  of 
her  death,  and  may  return  and  visit  her  grave.  Be  thou  sure 
that  every  unkind  look,  every  disobedient  action,  every  harsh 
word,  will  come  back  and  visit  thy  soul.  Be  sure  you  will  re- 
member everything  that  ever  gave  pain  to  her  heart,  and  remember 
it  with  unavailing  regret  when  too  late  to  recall  it,  or  to  ask  for- 
giveness. Be  sure  if  you  are  unkind  and  disobedient ;  if  you  are 
an  infidel  or  a  scoffer  ;  if  you  slight  her  counsels  and  neglect  the 
God  and  Saviour  to  whom  she  would  conduct  you,  there  are  laid 
up  in  the  chambers  of  your  soul  the  sources  of  bitter  repentance 
hereafter — and  that  you  cannot  find  forgiveness  of  her  whose  heart 
you  broke,  though  you  seek  it  carefully  with  tears.  And  be  sure 
that  the  sweetest  of  all  consolations  when  she  dies,  will  be  found 
in  such  love  of  her  Saviour  that  you  will  appreciate  what  is  meant 
when  it  is  said  she  has  gone  to  Heaven  ;  and  in  evidence  in  your 
own  heart  that  you  will  be  prepared  when  the  summons  comes,  to 
rejoin  her  in  the  realms  of  bliss. 

Into  the  eternal  shadow  that  girds  our  life  around, 
Into  the  infinite  silence  wherewith  Death's  shore  is  bound, 
Thou  hast  gone  forth,  beloved  !  and  I  were  mean  to  weep 
That  thou  hast  left  life's  shallows,  and  dost  possess  the  deep. 

Lowell. 


AN  OVERCOMING  FAITH.  79 

AN  OVERCOMING    FAITH.* 

BY    RICHARD    FULLER,    D.D. ,     BALTIMORE,     MD. 

But  none  of  these  thi?igs  move  me,  neither  count  I  my  life  dear  unto  my- 
self, so  that  I  might  finish  my  course  with  joy. — Acts  xx.  24. 

To  adopt  this  sentiment  and  act  upon  it  unshrinkingly,  is  the 
noblest  achievement  of  Christian  heroism.  And  if  the  conflicts 
and  sacrifices  which  Paul  had  to  encounter  were  far  more  fearful 
than  ours,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  he  seems  to  have  pos- 
sessed one  vast  advantage  over  us  and  all  other  men.  We,  in 
our  trials  and  combats  and  sufferings,  have  to  be  sustained  by 
faith.  But  what  is  this  faith  ?  How  dim  its  light  !  How  seldom 
is  it  a  steady  illumination  !  If  the  Son  of  Man  should  now  come, 
how  much  faith  would  He  find  upon  earth  ?  At  best,  how  very 
inadequate  its  discoveries,  how  very  feeble  its  anticipations  of 
eternal  things  ! 

Now,  those  eternal  realities  our  apostle  had  seen.  He  had 
been  "  caught  up  to  the  third  heaven,"  and  favored  with  an  open 
vision  of  the  celestial  glory  ;  seeing  and  hearing  things  inexpli- 
cable to  man.  No  wonder  he  was  ardent.  I  am  not  surprised 
that  he  was  fired  with  quenchless  zeal  and  tireless  ambition  ;  that 
toil,  and  pain,  and  shipwreck,  and  want,  and  stripes  were  all  de- 
spised, and  death  and  martyrdom  thrice  welcome. 

Let  us  not,  however,  envy  him  this  advantage.  "  Blessed  are 
they  that  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed."  Faith  honors 
God  more  than  sight  (as  it  is  written  of  Abraham,  that  he  "  was 
strong  in  faith,  giving  glory  to  God  ")  and  will,  therefore,  be  more 
nobly  rewarded.  Nor  only  so.  Although  the  apprehensions  of 
faith  are  less  vivid  than  those  of  the  senses,  its  influence  is  not  less 
stringent  ;  and,  if  it  be  genuine,  what  motives  does  it  not  furnish 
to  elevate  us  above  all  the  trials  of  life,  and  make  us — in  view  of 
the  joyful  termination  of  our  course — superior  to  death,  even  the 
most  appalling  death.    .  .   . 

I.   The  first  infinitely  important  truth  taught  by  our  text  is,  that 

*  Preached  on  the  death  of  William  T.  Brantly,  D.D. 


8o  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

to  each  of  us  a  course  has  been  prescribed,  which  each  may  call 
his  course,  and  which  each  is  to  finish.  "  My  course, "  says  the 
apostle  ;  but  how  forgetful  are  we  all  here,  and  from  this  forget- 
fulness  have  flowed  the  most  lamentable  mischiefs.  How  con- 
stantly do  we  find  Christians  pleading  something  in  their  pres- 
ent condition  as  an  excuse  for  their  unfaithfulness,  and  persuad- 
ing themselves  that  in  other  circumstances  they  would  be  more 
holy  and  devoted.  "Had  I  but  other  talents,"  says  the  slothful 
servant,  "I  would  be  useful."  "For  my  part,"  argues  a 
second,  "were  I  only  free  from  these  embarrassments,  nothing 
would  interrupt  my  zeal  and  charity."  While  a  third — the  repre- 
sentative of  almost  the  whole  church  so  called — in  spite  of  reason, 
and  Scripture,  and  his  own  experience,  is  ever  promising  himself 
some  more  auspicious  season,  and  thus  year  after  year  mocking 
God  and  wronging  his  own  soul.  Pernicious  errors  !  Fatal 
heresies  !  Let  us  avoid  them  ;  let  us  comprehend  our  religion 
better.  And,  that  we  may  do  so,  let  us  never  forget  what  I  am 
now  urging  ;  let  us  settle  in  our  minds  and  always  recollect  the 
following  propositions,  which  are  practical  axioms  of  universal 
application. 

Let  us  settle  in  our  minds  this  proposition,  that  to  each  individ- 
ual God  assigns  his  own  course,  and  that  his  piety,  and  happiness, 
and  acceptance,  depend  not  on  the  course  itself,  but  on  his  fulfil- 
ling it— not  on  the  sphere  in  which  the  Christian  moves,  but  on 
his  glorifying  God  in  it.  An  angel,  sent  to  live  on  this  earth, 
would  not  be  at  all  concerned  whether  he  were  seated  on  a  throne 
of  diamond,  or  toiled  as  a  scavenger  sweeping  the  streets.  His 
only  solicitude  would  be  about  occupying  the  place  designated  for 
him,  and  glorifying  God  there.  And  we,  if  we  would  be  useful 
or  happy,  must  cultivate  the  temper  of  that  angel.  We  must  re- 
member that  every  age,  every  calling,  every  condition,  has  its 
peculiar  trials  and  duties  ;  and  that  the  trials  and  duties  we  meet 
are  those  which  are  assigned  to  us — which  have  been  accurately 
adjusted  "so  as  to  constitute  our  probation,  and  be  the  ordeals  of 
our  faith,  and  love,  and  patience.  This  affliction  cometh  not 
forth  of  the  dust,  neither  doth  this  trouble  spring  out  of  the 
ground  ;  they  are  paternal  chastisements  for  my  good.  This  be- 
setting sin  is  permitted,  that  I  may  be  kept  ever  prayerful  and 
watchful  ;  it  is  the  thorn  in  the  flesh,  to  make  me  always  humble. 


AN  OVERCOMING  FAITH.  81 

These  losses,  these  sad  reverses,  are  designed  to  try  my  confidence 
and  resignation,  and  to  fix  my  treacherous  heart  on  things  above. 
This  sphere  of  action,  however  humble  or  arduous,  is  my  sphere 
— that  which  I  am  to  fill  to  the  honor  of  Christ  and  the  advance- 
ment of  His   cause. 

It  is  recorded  of  John  the  Baptist,  that  he  "fulfilled  his 
course."  Paul  says,  "  I  have  finished  my  course."  How  differ- 
ent the  courses  of  these  remarkable  men  I  need  not  tell  you  ; 
each,  however,  completed  his  course,  and  this  constituted  his 
piety.  And  just  so  now  ;  how  diversified  are  our  circumstances, 
our  trials,  and  duties,  and  difficulties.  Are  we  meeting  them  all 
with  sustained  piety,  and  prompt,  unshrinking  consecration  to  our 
Father's  will  ?  If  we  would  obey  "  the  high  calling  of  God,"  we 
must  have  done  with  our  illusions  about  the  future — that  future 
will  bring  its  own  trials  and  duties  ;  "  sufficient  unto  the  day  is 
the  evil  thereof."  If  we  are  to  be  Christians  at  all,  we  must  not 
be  repining  at  our  lot,  nor  indolently  sighing  after  chimerical  ad- 
vantages, nor  flattering  ourselves  with  the  nobleness  we  should 
display  under  imaginary  difficulties.  Our  happiness  and  our  sal- 
vation depend  on  our  serving  God  in  the  condition  in  which  He 
has  placed  us,  not  in  another  ;  we  are  required  to  improve  the 
talents  we  have,  not  those  we  want  ;  and  if  our  present  trials  be 
too  great  for  our  faith  and  love,  what  transparent  folly  is  it  to  be 
amusing  ourselves  with  fanciful  and  fictitious  dreams  of  martyr- 
dom. Our  actual,  real  trials  and  sacrifices  are  the  martyrdom  to 
which  we  are  called  ;  these  are  the  way  the  Lord  our  God  is 
leading  us,  "  to  humble  us,  and  prove  us,  and  see  whether  we 
will  keep  His  commandments  or  no  ;■"  these  are  our  probation — 
the  obstacles  to  be  surmounted  in  "  the  race  set  before  us" — our 
courses,  and  to  every  man  is  assigned  his  own  course. 

To  every  man  a  certain  and  definite  time  is  given  in  which  to 
finish  his  course  ;  "  His  days  are  determined,  the  number  of  his 
months  is  with  Thee,  Thou  hast  appointed  his  bounds  that  he 
cannot  pass. "  We  all  die,  say  the  Scriptures,  and  are  as  water 
sinking  into  the  ground  and  returning  no  more.  Our  lives  roll 
on  like  rivers.  We  may  be  renowned  or  obscure  ;  we  may 
become  benefactors  or  scourges  of  our  race  ;  our  existence  may 
be  calm  and  bright,  or  dark  and  turbulent  ;  but  to  each  a  period 
is  allotted,  after  which  we  are  confounded  in  the  tomb — even  as 


82  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

rivers,  the  most  celebrated  and  the  unknown,  the  tranquil  and  the 
impetuous,  those  which  desolate  and  those  which  bless  the  earth, 
all  traverse  spaces  accurately  prescribed,  and  then  mingle  their 
waters  and  lose  their  names  and  distinctions  in  the  ocean. 

Such  are  our  lives.  Ah,  my  hearers,  if  Almighty  God  should 
this  moment  reveal  to  us  the  future,  what  startling  discoveries 
might  we  not  make  ;  what  alterations  in  a  few  months  ;  how 
many  graves  ready  and  opening  under  our  feet  !  Here  the 
youngest  and  giddiest  might  stand  aghast  at  finding  themselves 
already  touching  the  fatal  limit.  There  the  votary  of  mirth,  and 
the  eager  aspirant  after  honor,  and  the  man  all  absorbed  in  busi- 
ness, might  be  seen  pale  and  terrified  at  that  message,  "This 
year  thou  shalt  die."  All  around  us,  and  at  our  very  sides — in 
these  pews — in  the  circles  where  we  move — in  our  families — how 
many  unexpected  and  melancholy  changes  might  we  not  behold, 
if  God  should  disclose  what  even  a  year  shall  bring  forth.  My 
brethren,  God  hath  not  revealed  to  us  the  future,  nor  do  we  re- 
quire any  such  knowledge.  Use  the  reason  which  has  been 
vouchsafed  you.  Look  at  the  scene  in  the  midst  of  which  vou 
daily  live,  and  at  what  is  hourly  passing  about  you.  Open  your 
eyes  to  the  spectacle  now  exhibited.  Listen  to  the  voice  which 
now  speaks  from  the  tomb.  Be  warned,  be  wise,  reflect,  meditate 
on  the  truth  I  am  now  urging,  that  to  each  of  us  there  is  pre- 
scribed a  time  in  which  to  finish  our  course,  a  period  fixed  and 
definite,  and  that  cannot  be  passed. 

"  The  time  is  short,"  says  the  apostle  ;  and  of  all  the  admoni- 
tions of  the  Bible,  this  is  that  which  seems  least  to  require  a 
preacher  to  make  us  feel  it.  "  What,"  indeed,  "  is  your  life?" 
The  longest  human  life — what  is  it  ?  Compare  our  life  with  that 
of  the  generations  before  the  flood — men  who  reckoned  not  by 
years,  but  centuries — and  what  is  it  ?  What  is  it  when  compared 
with  the  duration  even  of  inanimate  objects — these  venerable  walls 
— those  seats — this  pulpit  ?  Why,  the  very  pages  of  this  old 
Bible — so  frail  that  a  rude  touch  would  rend  them — how  many 
eyes  which  have  rested  on  these  pages  are  now  quenched  in 
death  ;  how  many  lips  which  have  expounded  these  pages  are 
now  sealed  in  the  tomb  !  And  what  if  I  could  go  on  and  compare 
our  life  with  eternity.     What  if  we  could  comprehend  the  incom- 


AN  OVERCOMING  FAITH. 


prehensible,  and  measure  the  infinite,  and  fathom  the  fathomless, 
and  then  compare  our  little,  shrivelled  handbreadth  with  eternity, 
with  the  boundless  abysses  of  the  future,  with  myriads  upon 
myriads  of  ages  accumulating  for  ever  and  ever — ah  !  impercepti- 
ble atom,  grass  cut  down  in  a  moment,  flower,  smoke,  vapor, 
shadow,  dream,  nothing. 

Yes,  "  Man  that  is  born  of  a  woman  is  of  few  days,"  and 
these  days  pass  rapidly  away.  "  The  world  passeth  away, 
and  the  lust  thereof."  "The  fashion  of  this  world  passeth 
away" — the  "fashion,"  the  vain  pageant,  of  this  world  passeth 
away.  The  image  here  is  that  of  a  procession  marching  before 
our  eyes.  It  may  be  surmounted  by  gay  banners,  and  be  decked 
in  every  brilliant  hue,  and  move  to  all  the  pomp  of  festive  or 
martial  music  blown  from  reed,  and  shell,  and  metal — but  it  is 
soon  gone.  It  is  yonder,  and  scarcely  can  you  hear  the  faint 
notes  of  its  coming — it  approaches — it  is  before  you  in  its  impos- 
ing array — it  has  passed — it  disappears  forever,  and  again  you  are 
left  in  solitude  and  silence. 

"  It  passeth  away,"  is  written  upon  everything  here.  We 
look,  we  love,  we  desire,  we  possess — but  no  matter  how  dear  and 
cherished  the  object,  we  soon  trace  upon  its  fragile  form  this  mel- 
ancholy inscription,  "  It  passeth  away."  Our  pleasures,  what 
are  they  doing  ?  Passing  away.  Our  afflictions,  what  are  they 
doing?  Passing  away;  they  are,  says  the  apostle,  "but  for  a 
moment."  Where  are  the  companions  of  our  childhood? 
Where  are  the  associates  of  our  youth  ?  "  Our  fathers,  where  are 
they  ?"  Where  are  those  who  once  inhabited  the  houses  in  which 
you  dwell,  and  occupied  the  chambers  in  which  you  will  sleep  to- 
night ?  Where  are  those  who  once  trod  these  hallowed  courts, 
and  filled  this  sacred  desk  ?  Where  ? — Gone  !  They  have 
finished  their  course  ;  they  have  passed  away.  And  we  are  fol- 
lowing them.  We,  too,  are  "  accomplishing  as  an  hireling  our 
day."  "Our  days  are  swifter  than  a  weaver's  shuttle;"  and 
everything  around  us  is  changing,  consuming,  vanishing  "  as  a 
cloud" — passing  away.  This  young  year  is  passing  away.  This 
Sabbath  is  passing  away.  These  seasons,  these  songs,  these  pray- 
ers, these  opportunities — all,  all,  are  fleeting,  passing  away,  hast- 
ing to  be  crone. 


84  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

"  Time  rolls  his  ceaseless  course  ; — 
The  race  of  yore  that  danced  our  infancy  upon  the  knee. 
How  are  they  blotted  from  the  things  that  be  ; 
How  few,  all  weak  and  withered  of  their  force, 
Wait,  on  the  verge  of  dark  eternity, 

Like  stianded  wrecks,  the  tide  returning  hoarse, 

To  waft  them  from  our  sight  !  " 

My  brethren,  children  of  an  hour,  have  you  any  just  conceptions 
of  a  life  so  brief  and  transient  as  ours  ?  "  He  fleeth  as  a  shadow 
and  continueth  not."  "Behold  thou  hast  made  my  days  as  an 
handbreadth,  and  my  years  are  as  nothing  before  thee."  "  Lord, 
make  me  to  know  mine  end,  and  the  measure  of  my  days,  what  it 
is  ;  that  I  may  know  how  frail  I  am."  "  So  teach  us  to  number 
our  days,  that  we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto  wisdom." 

II.  What  effect  the  truths  I  have  been  urging  may  have  on 
your  minds,  I,  of  course,  cannot  tell.  Upon  Paul,  their  influ- 
ence was  constant  and  powerful,  as  you  see  in  the  text.  They 
filled  him  with  ardor  ;  they  armed  him  for  every  event  of  life. 
They  caused  him  to  forget  the  past,  to  rise  above  the  present,  to 
fix  his  eye  with  an  eagle  gaze  and  from  an  eagle  station  on  the 
future,  and  to  feel  that  the  only  object  worthy  of  his  cares,  and 
toils,  and  sacrifices,  was  the  glorious  consummation,  the  joyful 
termination  of  his  course.  "  And  now  behold  I  go  bound  in  the 
spirit  unto  Jerusalem,  not  knowing  the  things  that  shall  befall  me 
there.  Save  only  that  the  Holy  Ghost  witnesseth  in  every  city, 
saying  that  bonds  and  afflictions  abide  me.  But  none  of  these 
things  move  me."  Let  us  enter  into  this  noble  language.  It 
was  not  peculiar  to  the  apostle,  but  is  the  sentiment  of  all  who 
are  bound  in  spirit  for  the  New  Jerusalem. 

What,  then,  is  the  import  of  the  language  before  us  ?  I  answer, 
it  denotes  plainly,  that  in  the  Christian's  estate,  the  finishing  his 
course  with  joy  is  the  great  concern  of  life.  Other  and  indispensa- 
ble duties  engage  his  hands  ;  but  they  are  only  by-work,  they  are 
not  the  grand  object.  Never  perhaps  did  there  live  a  man  whose 
occupations  were  more  diversified  than  those  of  Paul — now  com- 
passing the  earth  by  land — now  ploughing  the  deep — now  work- 
ing as  a  tentmaker — now  thundering  before  kings — in  a  word, 
doing  everything,  and  seeming  almost  to  possess  ubiquity  ;  yet, 
amidst  all,  he  says,  "One  thing  I  do. "  And  such  is  the  lan- 
guage of  the  Christian  I  am  describing.      He  can  say,    "  One 


AN  OVERCOMING   FAITH.  85 


thing  I  do" — one  great  absorbing  wish  monopolizes  my  heart. 
He  can,  with  the  Psalmist,  exclaim,  "One  thing  have  I  desired 

of  the  Lord. ' ' 

"  My  first,  my  last,  my  chief  requests 
Are  all  comprised  in  this  ; 
To  follow  where  thy  saints  have  led, 
And  then  possess  their  bliss." 

This  is  one  import  of  the  words  we  are  now  analyzing.  This, 
however,  is  not  all  their  meaning.  It  is  not  enough  to  feel  that 
the  finishing  our  course  joyfully  is  our  grand  work — or  to  pray 
importunately  for  this.  An  ungodly  Balaam  could  say,  "  Let  me 
die  the  death  of  the  righteous  ;"  and  that  man  is  assuredly  de- 
ceived who  prays,  but  contradicts  his  prayers  by  his  life.  The 
text  denotes,  farther,  that  the  Christian  is  directly  and  earnestly 
occupied  about  finishing  his  course  with  joy.  Many  mean  to  be 
engaged,  but  he  is  engaged.  Not  only  in  his  aspirations,  but  in 
his  efforts,  he  presses  toward  the  mark  for  the  prize  of  the  high 
calling  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus.  His  face  is  "  set  as  a  flint,"  and 
he  answers  all  resisting  strokes,  as  the  flint  does,  with  fire.  For- 
getting those  things  which  are  behind,  he  reaches  forth  unto  those 
that  are  before,  that  he  may  apprehend  that  for  which  also  he  is 
apprehended  of  Christ  Jesus.  An  irresolute  spirit  is  destroying 
more  souls  among  us  than  any  form  of  open  sin.  But  his 
spirit  is  not  irresolute.  "  My  heart  is  fixed,  O  God,  my  heart  is 
fixed" — such  is  the  felt  consecration  and  concentration  of  his  soul 
to  its  work.  He  is  busy  about  eternity  ;  striving  to  enter  in  at 
the  strait  gate  ;  actually  employed  in  vanquishing  difficulties,  and 
subduing  corruptions,  and  surmounting  obstacles.  And  he  is  in- 
tent upon  this  very  thing  No  soldier  bent  upon  carrying  a  cita- 
del, was  ever  more  engrossed  by  a  single  object.  No  mariner  on 
the  open  sea,  struggling  with  winds  and  waves,  and  longing  for 
port,  was  ever  more  tenacious  of  a  single  purpose.  "  That  I  may 
finish  my  course  with  joy" — this  is  the  all-animating  thought,  the 
sublime  anticipation,  which  girds  him  for  toil,  and  cheers  him  on 
amidst  discouragements  ;  nor  for  this  is  any  sacrifice  deemed 
too  costly.  What,  indeed,  are  we  to  understand,  when  Paul 
declares  that  none  of  all  the  sufferings  he  might  endure  could 
move  him  ?  Was  he  a  stoic  ?  Was  he  invulnerable  to  per- 
secution, and  affliction,   and  shame  ?     Not  at  all.      He  felt,   and 


86  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

felt  keenly— for  piety  does  not  dull,  it  refines,  our  sensibilities. 
Our  apostle  meant  that  nothing  deterred,  nothing  impeded, 
nothing  diverted  him.  "  None  of  these  things  move  me" — such 
was  the  exclamation  of  this  heroical  man  ;  and  how  much  is  there 
in  this  exclamation  for  us  all  ! 

Sensual  souls,  the  lesson  of  this  passage  is. for  you  ;  you  whose 
passions  and  appetites  are  so  many  chains  with  which  Satan  draws 
you  back  from  God,  and  binds  you  to  his  chariot.  It  is  for  you, 
worldly  souls,  you,  who,  instead  of  laying  aside  every  weight,  are 
only  anxious  to  entangle  yourselves  with  fresh  cares.  It  is  for 
those  temporizing  spirits  who  are  always  projecting,  but  never  per- 
forming ;  always  admiring  the  firmness  of  the  Christian,  but  never 
possessing  courage  to  imitate  it.  It  is  for  the  slothful  servant. 
It  is  for  that  man  whose  piety  is  fruitful  only  in  excuses  for  doing 
nothing.  It  is  for  that  woman  whose  wishes  and  pride  control  her 
as  much  in  the  Church  as  they  had  done  in  the  world.  It  is — in 
short,  it  is,  as  I  said,  for  all — all  of  us  who  are  forever  indulging 
in  effeminacy  and  inglorious  repose,  and  saying  we  do  not  com- 
mit any  sin,  we  are  only  a  little  indolent.  As  if  indolence  were 
not  one  of  the  greatest  sins  ;  as  if  all  ages  and  conditions  did  not 
require  action  ;  as  if  poverty  and  wealth,  sickness  and  health,  life 
and  death,  are  not  parts  of  our  probation  ;  as  if,  in  fine,  each 
day  is  not  ushered  in  by  a  herald  announcing  new  conflicts,  sum- 
moning to  fresh  victories,  and  publishing  the  heavenly  proclama- 
tion, "  To  him  that  overcometh  will  I  grant  to  sit  with  me  in  my 
throne,  even  as  I  also  overcame  and  am  set  down  with  my  father 
in  His  throne." 

This  is  another  import  of  the  language  of  the  text.  It  ex- 
presses the  earnestness  and  intentness  of  the  Christian's  applica- 
tion to  the  course  before  him  ;  and,  once  more,  the  words  denote 
the  constancy  of  that  application.  Would,  my  brethren,  there  were 
less  need  to  press  this  part  of  our  subject  upon  you.  Would  there 
were  not  too  much  reason  to  fear  that  most  of  you  are  deplorably 
wanting  here.      Am  I  wrong  ? 

Then  answer  me  a  single  question,  solve  this  problem  :  Why 
is  it  that  sudden  death  appears  so  formidable  ?  Surely  protracted 
disease  is  not  desirable  ;  and  there  is  no  one  who  would  not  wish 
to  escape  the  pains  and  nauseating  appliances  and  miseries  of  a 
sick-room.      Why  then  do  we  all  stand  appalled  at  a  sudden  death 


AN  OVERCOMING  FAITH.  87: 

in  our  midst  ?  I  will  tell  you.  All  feel  how  unprepared  they  are 
for  such  a  stroke.  Each  trembles  as  he  thinks,  What  if  it  had 
been  I — -what  if  I  had  been  thus  hurried  to  the  foot  of  the  dread 
tribunal  ! 

Not  so  the  man  who  possesses  the  unshaken  steadiness  of  which 
I  speak.  No,  he  holds  on  his  way  not  only  with  singleness  of 
aim,  and  intensity  of  application,  but  with  unfaltering  perseverance. 
The  thought  of  finishing  his  course  with  joy,  accompanies  him 
everywhere,  and  thither  all  his  solicitudes  tend  with  unremitted 
energy  of  impulse.  "  I  am  now  ready  to  be  offered  " — such  was 
the  frame  in  which  the  closing  hour  found  our  apostle  ;  and  such 
is  the  frame  which  the  Christian  before  us  maintains.  His  con- 
stant care  is  to  keep  his  soul  prepared,  with  outstretched  wings, 
plumed  and  ready  for  the  skies  ;  and  still,  when  danger  threatens, 
and  disease  assails,  and  death  approaches,  his  language  is,  "I  am 
now  ready  to  be  offered."  Others  rest  in  present  attainments  ; 
he  counts  not  himself  to  have  apprehended.  Others  show  too 
plainly  that  their  hearts  are  on  rewards  and  possessions  here  ;  they 
resemble  those  tribes  who  said  to  Joshua,  Give  us  our  inheritance 
on  this  side  of  the  river.  He  rejoices  that  his  possessions  and  re- 
wards are  not  here.  His  affections  are  set  on  things  above.  His 
affinities  are  with  eternity.  His  soul  glows  with  the  illapses,  the 
first  gushes  of  heaven,  and  feels  the  resistless  attractions  of  God 
Himself.  He  resembles  old  Paulinus,  who,  when  his  friends  told 
him  that  the  Goths  had  sacked  the  city  and  burned  all  his  treas- 
ures, looked  up  smilingly  and  said,  "  Lord,  Thou  knowest  where 
my  treasures  are  !" 

What,  indeed,  is  there  in  this  earthly  life  to  satisfy  the 
Christian  ?  What  is  the  world  ?  The  world  !  it  is  a  scene  of 
agitation,  disquietude,  and  restlessness — a  stormy  ocean,  allowing 
at  best  only  a  momentary  and  treacherous  calm.  The  world  !  it 
is  an  abode  of  vanity,  a  land  of  sorrow,  a  valley  strewed  with 
thorns  and  watered  with  tears  ;  a  tomb  where  we  are  every  day 
burying  hopes  that  can  know  no  resurrection.  Renouncing  forever 
such  a  world,  I  fly  to  Him  who  calls  the  weary  and  the  heavy- 
laden.  I  obey  the  gospel.  I  cling  to  the  cross.  And  I  find,  it 
is  true,  in  the  service  of  Christ,  a  peace  the  world  never  gave  ;  joys 
— oh  how  much  sweeter  the  memory  of  those  joys  than  the  pos- 
session of  all  besides  !     But  still,  religion  exempts  me  not  from 


PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 


afflictions  and  sorrows.  Religion  brings  sorrows  of  its  own,  trials, 
sacrifices,  enmities,  bitter  separations,  unkindnesses  too  often  from 
those  to  whom  we  are  linked  by  the  tenderest  ties,  and  to  whose 
hearts  our  hearts  have  long  been  wont  to  leap  in  kindness  back. 
Even  "  the  cup  of  thanksgiving  is  mingled  with  tears,"  and 
through  much  tribulation  we  must  enter  the  Kingdom  of  God. 
And  what  do  I  learn  from  all  this  ?  I  learn  that  not  in  this 
world,  not  in  this  economy,  but  in  another  world,  another  econ- 
omy, I  am  to  find  my  felicity.  I  learn  daily  to  turn  my  eyes  to 
that  other  world,  that  other  economy  ;  I  learn  to  listen  to  that 
voice  which  is  forever  crying  to  me,  "  Arise,  depart  ;  for  this  is 
not  your  rest,  because  it  is  polluted."  Happy  we,  if  the  vanity 
and  disappointments  of  this  world  cause  us  to  close  our  eyes  on 
it  forever,  and  fix  them  on  a  world  which  will  not  defraud  our 
hearts.  Happy  he  who,  by  the  brevity  and  misery  of  life,  is 
taught  the  true  purpose  of  his  being  ;  and  who,  regarding  an  im- 
mortality of  bliss  as  the  goal  to  be  won,  and  "striving  to  enter 
into  that  rest  which  remains,"  keeps  ever  before  him  the  crown, 
the  end,  the  joyful  consummation  of  his  course.  Happy,  thrice 
happy,  such  a  man.  And  why  ?  Why,  for  reasons  most  plain  ; 
reasons  which  you  must  already  feel.  Because  such  a  man  will 
be  kept  calm,  unmoved,  intrepid,  amidst  all  the  events  of  life  ; 
calm,  unmoved,  intrepid  (nay,  joyful  and  full  of  holy  triumphing) 
amidst  the  last  conflict,  the  struggles  with  death  itself,  even  the 
most  appalling  death. 

III.  I  place  such  a  man,  for  example,  amidst  the  temptations 
and  allurements  of  the  world  ;  but  for  him  how  impotent  their 
assaults  and  solicitations  ! 

Maxims  of  this  world,  how  false  are  ye  all  in  his  eyes  !  Ex- 
amples of  this  world,  how  pernicious  do  your  unsearchable  seduc- 
tions appear  !  Pleasures,  riches,  grandeurs — a  Christian — a  Chris- 
tian who  is  athirst  for  God,  whose  heart  is  warmed  by  habitual 
contemplations  of  God,  such  a  Christian  is  incapable  of  that  de- 
basement which  degrades  an  immortal  mind  in  a  vortex  of  sensual 
pleasures  ;  that  meanness  of  soul  which  is  dazzled  by  a  little 
human  parade,  and  prostrates  itself  before  a  little  gold,  a  little 
pomp,  a  little  tinsel  splendor.  No,  the  world  is  unmasked.  The 
pleasures  he  seeks  are  pure  and  celestial.  Eternal'  riches  inflame 
his  avarice.      True  glory  is  the  object  of  his  competition. 


AN  OVERCOMING  FAITH.  89 

I  place  this  man,  again,  amidst  the  fears  and  discouragements 
of  the  believer.  Fears,  discouragements,  how  many,  and  from 
how  many  sources  !  Sometimes  from  our  conscious  weakness  ; 
and  David  despondingly  says,  "  I  shall  now  perish  one  day  by  the 
hand  of  Saul.'-'  Sometimes  from  the  small  number  who  are  de- 
voted to  Christ  ;  nnd  even  the  lion-hearted  Elijah  wishes  for  death 
as  he  exclaims,  "  I,  even  I  only,  am  left."  Too  often  (alas  that 
it  should  be  so)  these  fears  and  discouragements  arise  from  the 
reproach  of  the  cross.  "  I  know  not  the  man  !"  What,  Peter, 
know  not  Jesus  Christ  ?  You  knew  Him  once.  You  knew 
Him  when,  sinking  in  the  waves,  you  cried,  "  Lord,  save  or  I 
perish."  You  knew  Him  when  you  said,  "  Lord,  to  whom  shall 
we  go  but  unto  Thee,"  and  protested,  "  Though  all  shall  be 
offended,  yet  will  not  I  ;"  "  If  I  should  die  with  Thee,  I  will  not 
deny  Thee."  You  knew  the  Man  then,  Peter,  and  why  not 
know  Him  now  ? 

Ah  !  see,  He  is  now  exposed  to  shame.  He  is  persecuted  and 
seized  and  forsaken.  He  is  about  to  be  condemned.  He  is  de- 
spised and  smitten  and  derided  ;  and  Peter  knows  not  the  Man 
now.  r>ut  how  do  these  fears  vanish  when,  over  all,  the  Christian 
lifts  his  eye  to  heaven,  and  hears  that  assurance,  "  I  am  Almighty 
God,  walk  thou  before  Me  and  be  thou  perfect."  Then  how 
does  he  scorn  this  unworthy  timidity.  Then  with  what  magna- 
nimity does  he  defy  every  discouragement,  and  despise  the  shame, 
and  exultingly  cry,  "  God  forbid  that  I  should  glory  save  in  the 
cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  If  the  world  despise  him,  he 
knows  how  to  despise  the  world  in  return.  And  he  sternly  pur- 
sues his  career  with  a  courage  only  strengthened  by  opposition. 

And  what  more  shall  I  add  ?  In  his  afflictions,  in  all  his  trials 
and  conflicts  and  sufferings,  what  ineffable  consolations  does  not 
such  a  man  taste  ;  with  what  holy  firmness  is  he  not  armed  ?  "I 
reckon' '  (such  are  his  thoughts,  such  the  arguments  by  which  he 
"  encourages  himself  in  the  Lord  his  God") — "  I  reckon  that  the 
sufferings  of  this  present  time  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with 
the  glory  which  shall  be  revealed  in  us. ' '  These  trials  are  the  road 
which  all  have  trod  who  are  gone  to  that  place  where  trials  are  un- 
known ;  and  for  them  as  for  me  the  path  hath  been  lined  with 
fire.  My  light  affliction,  which  is  but  for  a  moment,  is  now 
working  for  me  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory. 


go  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

"  Though  painful  at  present, 
'Twill  cease  before  long. 
And,  then,  O  how  pleasant 
The  conqueror's  song !" 

Such  are  his  thoughts,  and  what  thoughts  these  !  What  can  they 
not  do,  what  have  they  not  done,  to  fortify  and  animate  the  Chris- 
tian hero,  and  to  cause  even  the  feeblest  to  brave  misfortune,  and 
persecution,  and  pain,  and  all  the  sternest  vicissitudes  of  wretched- 
ness. Ye  martyrs,  I  appeal  to  you,  for  you  can  answer.  I  ap- 
peal to  you,  cloud  of  witnesses  which  compass  us  about,  for  you 
can  testify.  Than — and  many  of  them  the  most  timid  and  deli- 
cate women — ihaii,  "of  whom  the  world  was  not  worthy"  — 
what  powerful  principle  inspired  them  ?  By  what  were  they  sus- 
tained when  they  "  had  trials  of  cruel  mockings  and  scourgings, 
yea  of  bonds  and  imprisonment;-'  when  they  "wandered  about 
in  sheepskins  and  goatskins,  being  destitute,  afflicted,  tormented  ;" 
when  they  "  wandered  in  deserts  and  in  mountains,  and  in  dens 
and  caves  of  the  earth  ;"  when  they  were  tracked  and  hunted 
down  like  wild  beasts  by  that  tiger  Nero  ;  when  their  way  was  ob- 
structed by  racks,  and  scaffolds,  and  gibbets,  and  flames ;  but 
when  they  still  pressed  on,  the  cruelty  of  their  tormentors  only 
surpassed  by  their  constancy  in  defying  it  ; — amidst  scenes  like 
these,  what  was  it  that  supported  the  heroes  and  martyrs  of  the 
faith  ?  It  was,  my  brethren,  the  prospect,  the  joy  set  before 
them.  It  was  the  recompense  of  the  reward.  It  was  the  good 
land  burning  in  the  sun  to  which,  as  from  Pisgah  tops,  they 
looked  over.  It  was  the  glory,  the  exceeding  glory,  the  far  more 
exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory. 

I  was  right,  then,  when  I  affirmed  that  in  view  of  the  joyful  ter- 
mination of  his  course,  the  Christian  can  be  prepared  for  every 
event  of  life.  And  I  was  equally  right  in  saying  that  such  a  pros- 
pect can  do  more  ;  that  it  can  make  the  Christian  intrepid,  nay 
triumphant,  in  the  last  hour,  the  trying  conflict  with  death  itself. 
Lose  nothing  of  these  concluding  remarks,  my  dear  hearers,  for 
they  concern  you  deeply.  You  must  soon  die,  and  you  will  then 
require  no  common  supports.  Many  fine  things  have  been  writ- 
ten about  the  pleasures  of  the  good  man's  death-bed  ;  but  death 
is  still  the  king  of  terrors  for  all  that.  I  know  there  have  been 
those  who  affected  to  regard  death  as  annihilation,  and  thus  to  be 


AN  OVERCOMING  FAITH.  91 

elevated  above  the  fear  of  it.  But  what  were  these  men  ?  Even 
supposing  they  were  sincere — supposing  that  they  did  not  assume 
an  air  and  tone  to  impose  on  others  while  they  could  not  impose 
on  themselves — what  were  such  men  ?  They  were  idiots  and 
madmen.  They  "  died  as  the  fool  dieth. "  But  to  know  what 
death  is,  and  yet  to  meet  it  calmly  and  triumphantly,  this,  this  is 
a  noble  conquest,  a  sublime  victory.  And  this  victory,  the  Chris- 
tian before  us,  the  man  who  is  ever  contemplating  the  end  of  his 
course,  can  achieve.  Death  is  not  to  him  what  it  is  to  all  others. 
And  this  you  will  at  once  feel,  if  you  just  glance  at  three  truths 
which  I  only  indicate  in  so  many  words. 

In  the  first  place,  such  a  man  has  formed  a  correct  estimate  of 
life.  What  is  the  design  of  life  ?  Apart  from  his  immortality, 
what  a  failure  is  man  ;  nay,  he  is  an  enigma  baffling  all  our  con- 
ceptions of  the  Deity.  Did  God  mean  man  to  be  happy  here — 
why  then  so  much  misery  ?  Did  He  design  him  to  be  miserable 
— but  how  can  I  reconcile  this  with  all  my  sentiments  of  God  ? 
Oh  man,  who  hath  misplaced  thee  thus  ?  The  Christian  of  whom 
I  am  now  speaking  has  his  ideas  rectified  on  this  subject.  This 
span,  this  handbreadth,  this  dream,  this  vapor,  these  few  dozen 
years,  these  fleeting  moments,  are  not  life.  They  are  but  a  harsh 
probation,  and  shall  we  repine  when  this  probation  is  over  ? 
They  are  but  the  portico  of  our  being,  and  shall  we  wish  to 
remain  there,  where  the  wind,  and  rain,  and  storm  can  beat  upon 
us  ?  Disgusted  with  the  condition  of  his  country,  Cato  the 
Younger,  we  are  told,  shut  himself  up  and  applied  his  mind  to 
Plato's  book  on  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  "lam  still  Coesar's 
superior,"  he  said,  and,  after  reading  that  treatise  through  twice, 
he  fell  eagerly  upon  his  sword.  In  that  very  work  Plato  con- 
demns suicide  ;  yet,  once  convinced  of  a  life  hereafter,  nothing 
could  restrain  the  ardors  of  Cato' s  soul.  He  wooed  death  as  a 
bride,  and  embraced  joyfully  the  tomb  with  immortality  for  a 
dower.  What,  then,  should  be  the  emotions  of  a  Christian  ;  a 
man  for  whom  life  and  immortality — and  such  a  life,  such  an 
immortality — have  been  brought  to  light  in  the  Gospel  ! 

In  the  next  place,  the  very  life  which  the  Christian  I  am  describ- 
ing leads,  must  prepare  him  for  death  by  weaning  him  from  all 
earthly  things.  He  dies  daily  to  the  world.  He  becomes  daily 
more  crucified  to  the  world  ;  and  death  can  separate  him  from 


92 


PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 


nothing,  because  faith  has  before  separated  him  from  all.  To  the 
lovers  of  this  world  death  is  indeed  a  melancholy,  a  cruel  ship- 
wreck— a  shipwreck  of  hopes,  and  wishes,  and  projects,  and  treas- 
ures, and  affections,  and  hearts,  and  everything.  But  the  Chris- 
tian who  lives  the  life  of  faith,  and  is  ever  refreshing  his  eyes  with 
heaven,  loses,  and  can  lose,  nothing.  Sweeping,  scourging, 
crushing,  the  tempest  comes  ;  but  he  is  calm.  His  heart  and  his 
treasure  are  high  above  the  storm.  His  hope  survives  the  shock, 
and  shines  brighter  and  brighter  amidst  the  desolation.  What  to 
such  a  man  are  those  objects  which  enslave  the  hearts  of  the  mul- 
titude, and  make  death  the  greatest  of  calamities  ?  They  are,  say 
the  Scriptures,  "  lying  vanities  ;"  nay,  fuel  for  the  fire.  And  the 
whole  world — that  world  which  so  fills  and  intoxicates  its  votaries 
— what  is  it  to  such  a  Christian  ?  A  grand  impertinence — a  mag- 
nificent funeral  pile  awaiting  the  last  conflagration.  Yes,  ye  wor- 
shippers, ye  martyrs  of  the  world,  behold  your  idol  !  As  the 
Jews — after  collecting  their  treasures,  and  "  the  ornaments  of  their 
wives  and  sons  and  daughters,"  and  fashioning  a  calf  of  gold — 
cried,  "  these  be  your  gods,  O  Israel  ;"  so  would  I  say  of  those 
idols  on  which  you  are  desecrating  your  passions,  and  your 
wives,  and  sons,  and  daughters,  lavishing  affections  formed  for 
Christ.  These  be  your  gods.  Behold  your  deity  !  To-morrow, 
you  shall  be  stretched  upon  beds  of  anguish  and  death,  and  be 
torn,  all  pale  and  trembling,  from  your  idols,  your  lands,  your 
houses,  your  silver  and  gold.  Then  (as  the  Lord  formerly 
said),  "  Cry  unto  the  gods  to  whom  you  have  offered  incense,  and 
see  if  they  will  help  you  in  your  trouble."  But  this  is  not  all. 
To-morrow,  those  idols  themselves — those  lands,  those  houses, 
this  silver  and  gold — shall  be  burnt  up,  and  become  a  heap  of 
white  ashes.  These  are  the  objects  of  your  insane  homage. 
What  objects  to  engross  the  immortal  mind  !  Sinners,  you  who 
are  also  finishing  your  course,  but  with  a  sorrow  which  it  will  re- 
quire eternity  to  deplore  ;  presumptuous  mortals,  who,  by  some 
strange  infatuation,  are  still  deluding  yourselves  while  all  around 
you  and  within  you  is  decaying,  see  your  folly  and  madness. 
Let  death,  let  the  fires  of  the  judgment,  preach  to  you.  Behold 
the  true  character  of  that  world  for  which  you  are  forfeiting 
heaven,  and  plunging  your  souls  in  the  lake  that  burneth  with  fire 
and  brimstone. 

The  Christian's  heart  is  on  a  very  different  world.      "Seeing 


AN  OVERCOMING   FAITH.  93 

that  all  these  things  shall  be  dissolved,  what  manner  of  persons 
ought  ye  to  be?"  He  is  one  of  this  manner  of  persons.  His 
affections  are  not  on  these,  but  on  very  different  things.  They 
are  on  an  inheritance  which  is  incorruptible — a  kingdom  that  can- 
not be  moved  ;  on  riches,  honors,  pleasures,  undefiled  and  un- 
fading. These,  these  have  long  been  his  meditation  and  his 
desire,  and  death  (this  is  our  last  reflection)  death  puts  him  in  pos- 
session of  them.  Death  rends  the  veil,  and  throws  open  the  bar- 
riers between  him  and  that  salvation  for  which  he  has  long 
waited.  I  am  thinking  of  an  old  hermit  of  whom  I  have  read. 
He  was  just  dying,  when,  with  a  broken,  faltering  voice,  he 
began  to  sing.  They  asked  him  why  he  sang?  "I  sing,"  he 
replied,  "  because  I  feel  that  the  old  walls  are  tumbling  down  at 
last."  Ah  !  fall,  fall,  ye  walls  of  partition  ;  be  rent  in  twain,  in- 
terposing curtains  ;  down,  down  with  time,  and  flesh,  and  sin, 
and  all  that  separates  the  soul  of  the  Christian  from  the  bosom  of 
its  loving  Redeemer. 

Yes,  my  brethren,  what  is  death,  even  the  most  excruciating 
death,  to  him  who,  over  all  its  terrors,  fixes  his  gaze  upon  the 
glory  that  shall  be  revealed  ?  Replenishing  their  souls  with  that 
view,  how  often  have  believers  found  their  strength  redoubled  in 
the  closing  agony,  and  displayed  a  fortitude  which  filled  even  their 
enemies  with  amazement  !  Witness  Stephen,  piercing  the  cloud 
of  stones,  and  beholding  the  heavens  open,  and  Jesus  waiting  to 
receive  him  home.  Witness  that  woman  who  said,  as  she  ran  to 
join  a  company  of  martyrs  going  to  execution,  "  Crowns  are  about 
to  be  distributed  this  day,  and  I  am  hastening  for  mine."  Wit- 
ness the  noble  Blandina,  who,  though  delicately  brought  up,  de- 
fied all  the  tortures  which  the  malice  of  fiends  could  invent ;  and 
from  the  rack,  the  iron  chair,  the  very  jaws  of  the  beasts  that  were 
tearing  her,  still  exclaimed,  "I  am  a  Christian!  I  am  a  Chris- 
tian !"  and  exhorted  those  who  had  been  condemned  with  her 
to  suffer  cheerfully  for  Christ.  Witness  these  !  Death  was  not 
only  disarmed  of  its  terrors  to  their  minds,  but  it  conducted  them 
to  the  summit  of  their  intensest  aspirations,  their  devoutest  wishes. 
And  what  is  death  to  any  Christian — a  Christian,  I  mean,  who  is 
Christ's  not  only  in  name,  but  in  his  choice  and  life  ;  who  can 
say,  "  Living  or  dying,  I  am  the  Lord's  ;"  who  is  constantly  pro- 
posing to  himself  the  prize  that  endureth  forever,  and  whose  faith 
is  thus  daily  ripening  into  full  assurance — what  is  death  to  such  a 


94  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 


Christian  ?  I  die — I  depart— but  it  is  to  be  with  Christ.  I  die, 
I  depart,  the  world  recedes,  it  disappears  ;  but  I  am  going  to  an 
eternal  world — to  that  world  which  has  long  been  the  object  of  all 
my  wishes,  my  prayers,  my  toils,  my  most  exalted  aspirations.  I 
die,  I  depart ;  thick  darkness  wraps  my  vision  ;  I  can  no  longer 
see  my  friends,  my  brethren,  my  weeping  family  around  me  ;  I 
can  no  longer  hear  the  farewell  words  they  are  speaking  to  me. 
But  I  see  Jesus  Christ.  There  He  is  beckoning  me  to  come  up. 
But  I  hear  Jesus  Christ.  I  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God  call- 
ing me,  encouraging  me,  saying  to  me,  "  It  is  I,  be  not  afraid"  — 
"  To  him  that  overcometh  will  I  give  to  eat  of  the  tree  of  life 
which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  Paradise  of  God,  and  he  shall  be 
clothed  in  white  raiment,  and  I  will  confess  his  name  before  My 
Father  and  before  His  angels."  Ah  !  Lord,  and  shall  I  be  afraid 
of  this  ?  Shall  I  shrink  back  from  this  ?  No,  I  count  not  my 
life  dear  unto  me.  I  have  a  desire  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ, 
which  is  far  better.  Lord,  I  beseech  Thee  show  me  Thy  glory. 
"  Thou  canst  not  see  my  face  and  live."  Let  me  die,  then,  O 
God,  for  I  do  long  to  see  Thy  face,  I  long  to  behold  Thy  face  in 
righteousness,  and  to  be  satisfied,  when  I  awake,  with  Thy  like- 
ness. 


THE  NATIONAL  BEREAVEMENT 

BY  REV.  HENRY  WARD  BEECHER,  BROOKLYN. 

1.  And  Moses  went  tip  from  the  plains  of  Moab,  unto  the  mountain  of 
Nebo,  to  the  top  of  Pisgah,  that  is  over  against  "Jericho  :  and  the  Lord  sho7ved 
him  all  the  land  of  Gilcad,  unto  Dan. 

2.  And  all  Naphtali,  and  the  land  of  Ephraim  and  Manasseh,  and  all 
the  land  of  Judah,  unto  the  utmost  sea. 

3.  And  the  South,  and  the  plain  of  the  valley  of  Jericho,  the  city  of  palm 
trees,  unto  Zoar. 

4.  And  the  Lord  said  unto  him,  This  is  the  land  which  I sware  unto 
Abraham,  unto  Isaac,  and  unto  Jacob,  saying,  I  will  give  it  unto  thy  seed  :  I 
have  caused  thee  to  see  it  with  thine  eyes,  but  thou  shall  not  go  over  thither. 

5.  So  Moses,  the  servant  of  the  Lord,  died  there  in  the  land  of  Moab,  ac- 
cording to  the  word  of  the  Lord. — Deuteronomy  xxxiv.  1-5. 

There  is  no  historic  figure  more  noble  than  that  of  the  Jewish 
lawgiver.  After  many  thousand  years,  the  figure  of  Moses  is  not 
diminished,  but  stands  up  against  the  background  of  early  days, 


THE  NATIONAL  BEREAVEMENT.  95 

distinct  and  individual  as  if  he  lived  but  yesterday.  There  is 
scarcely  another  event  in  history  more  touching  than  his  death. 
He  had  borne  the  great  burdens  of  state  for  forty  years,  shaped  the 
Jews  to  a  nation,  filled  out  their  civil  and  religious  polity,  admin- 
istered their  laws,  and  guided  their  steps,  or  dwelt  with  them  in 
all  their  sojourning  in  the  wilderness,  had  mourned  in  their  pun- 
ishment, kept  step  with  their  marches  and  led  them  in  wars,  until 
the  end  of  their  labors  drew  nigh,  the  last  stages  were  reached, 
and  Jordan  only  lay  between  them  and  the  promised  land.  The 
Promised  Land  !  Oh,  what  yearnings  had  heaved  his  breast  for 
that  divinely  promised  place  !  He  had  dreamed  cf  it  by  night, 
and  mused  by  day  ;  it  was  holy,  and  endeared  as  God's  favored 
spot  ;  it  was  to  be  the  cradle  of  an  illustrious  history.  All  along 
his  laborious  and  now  weary  life,  he  had  aimed  at  this  as  the  con- 
summation of  every  desire,  the  reward  of  every  toil  and  pain. 
Then  came  the  word  of  the  Lord  to  him,  "Thou  must  not  go 
over.  Get  thee  up  into  the  mountain,  look  upon  it,  and  die." 
From  that  silent  summit  the  hoary  leader  gazed  to  the  north,  to 
the  south,  to  the  west,  with  hungry  eyes.  The  dim  outlines  rose 
up,  the  hazy  recesses  spoke  of  quiet  valleys.  With  eager  longing, 
with  sad  resignation,  he  looked  upon  the  promised  land,  that  was 
now  the  forbidden  land.  It  was  a  moment's  anguish.  He  for- 
got all  his  personal  wants,  and  drank  in  the  vision  of  his  people's 
home.  His  work  was  done.  There  lay  God's  promise  fulfilled. 
There  was  the  seat  of  coming  Jerusalem — there  the  city  of  Jeho- 
vah's King,  the  sphere  of  judges  and  prophets,  the  mount  of  sor- 
row and  salvation,  the  country  whence  were  to  flow  blessings  to 
all  mankind.  Joy  chased  sadness  from  every  feature,  and  the 
prophet  laid  him  down  and  died. 

Again  a  great  leader  of  the  people  has  passed  through  toil,  sor- 
row, battle  and  war,  and  come  near  to  the  promised  land  of 
peace,  into  which  he  might  not  pass  over.  Who  shall  recount 
our  martyr's  sufferings  for  this  people  ?  Since  the  November  of 
i860,  his  horizon  has  been  black  with  storms.  By  day  and  by 
night  he  trod  the  way  of  danger  and  darkness.  On  his  shoulders 
rested  a  government  dearer  to  him  than  his  own  life.  At  its  life 
millions  were  striking  at  home  ;  upon  it  foreign  eyes  were  lowered, 
and  it  stood  like  a  lone  island  in  a  sea  full  of  storms,  and 
every  tide  and  wave  seemed  eager  to  devour  it.     Upon  thousands 


96  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

of  hearts  great  sorrows  and  anxieties  have  rested,  but  upon  not 
one  such,  and  in  such  measure,  as  upon  that  simple,  truthful, 
noble  soul,  our  faithful  and  sainted  Lincoln.  Never  rising  to  the 
enthusiasm  of  more  impassioned  natures  in  hours  of  hope,  and 
never  sinking  with  the  mercurial  in  hours  of  defeat  to  the  depths 
of  despondency,  he  held  on  with  unmovable  patience  and  forti- 
tude, putting  caution  against  hope  that  it  might  not  be  premature, 
and  hope  against  caution  that  it  might  not  yield  to  dread  and 
danger.  He  wrestled  ceaselessly  through  four  black  and  dreadful 
purgatorial  years,  when  God  was  cleansing  the  sins  of  this  people 
as  by  fire.  At  last  the  watchman  beheld  the  gray  dawn.  The 
mountains  began  to  give  forth  their  forms  from  out  of  the  dark- 
ness, and  the  East  came  rushing  toward  us  with  arms  full  of  joy 
for  all  our  sorrows.  Then  it  was  for  him  to  be  glad  exceedingly 
that  had  sorrowed  immeasurably.  Peace  could  bring  to  no  other 
heart  such  joy,  such  rest,  such  honor,  such  trust,  such  gratitude. 
He  but  looked  upon  it  as  Moses  looked  upon  the  promised  land. 
Then  the  wail  of  a  nation  proclaimed  that  he  had  gone  from 
among  us. 

Not  thine  the  sorrow,  but  ours.  Sainted  soul,  thou  hast  in- 
deed entered  the  promised  rest,  while  we  are  yet  on  the  march. 
To  us  remains  the  rocking  of  the  deep,  the  storm  upon  the  land, 
days  of  duty  and  nights  of  watching ;  but  thou  art  sphered 
high  above  all  darkness  and  fear,  beyond  all  sorrow  or  weari- 
ness. Rest,  oh  weary  heart  !  Rejoice  exceedingly,  thou  that 
hast  enough  suffered.  Thou  hast  beheld  Him  who  invariably  led 
thee  in  this  great  wilderness.  Thou  standest  among  the  elect ; 
around  thee  are  the  royal  men  that  have  ennobled  human  life'in 
every  age  ;  kingly  art  thou  with  glory  on  thy  brow  as  a  diadem, 
and  joy  is  upon  thee  for  evermore  !  Over  all  this  land,  over  all 
the  little  cloud  of  years  that  now  from  thine  infinite  horizon  waver 
back  from  thee  as  a  spark,  thou  art  lifted  up  as  high  as  the  star  is 
above  the  clouds  that  hide  us,  but  never  reach  it.  In  the  goodly 
company  on  Mount  Zion  thou  shalt  find  that  rest  which  so  many 
have  sought  in  vain,  and  thy  name,  an  everlasting  name  in 
heaven,  shall  flourish  in  fragrance  and  beauty  as  long  as  men  shall 
last  upon  the  earth,  or  hearts  remain  to  revere  Truth,  Fidelity, 
and  Goodness. 

Never  did  two  such  orbs  of   experience   meet   in   one   hemi- 


THE  NATIONAL   BEREAVEMENT.  97 

sphere  as  the  joy  and  sorrow  of  the  same  week  in  this  land. 
The  joy  was  as  sudden  as  if  no  man  had  expected  it,  and  as 
entrancing  as  if  it  had  fallen  from  heaven.  It  rose  up  over 
sobriety,  and  swept  business  from  its  moorings,  and  ran  down 
through  the  land  in  irresistible  course.  Men  wept  and  embraced 
each  other  ;  they  sang  or  prayed,  or,  deeper  yet,  could  only  think 
thanksgiving  and  weep  gladness.  That  peace  was  sure  ;  that  gov- 
ernment was  firmer  than  ever  ;  that  the  land  was  cleansed  of  plague  ; 
that  ages  were  opening  to  our  footsteps  and  we  were  to  begin  a 
march  of  blessings  ;  that  blood  was  stanched  and  scowling  en- 
mities sinking  like  spent  storms  beneath  the  horizon  ;  that  the 
dear  fatherland,  nothing  lost,  much  gained,  was  to  rise  in  unex- 
ampled honor  among  the  nations  of  the  earth — these  thoughts, 
and  that  undistinguishable  throng  of  fancies,  and  hopes,  and  de- 
sires, and  yearnings,  that  filled  the  soul  with  tremblings  like  the 
heated  air  of  midsummer  days — all  these  kindled  up  such  a  surge 
of  joy  as  no  words  may  describe.  In  an  hour,  joy  lay  without  a 
pulse,  without  a  gleam  or  breath.  A  sorrow  came  that  swept 
through  the  land,  as  huge  storms  sweep  through  the  forest  and 
field,  rolling  thunder  along  the  skies,  dishevelling  the  flames  and 
daunting  every  singer  in  the  thicket  or  forest,  and  pouring  black- 
ness and  darkness  across  the  land  and  up  the  mountains.  Did 
ever  so  many  hearts  in  so  brief  a  time  touch  two  such  boundless 
feelings  ?  It  was  the  uttermost  of  joy  and  the  uttermost  of  sorrow 
— noon  and  midnight  without  space  between.  The  blow  brought 
not  a  sharp  pang.  It  was  so  terrible  that  at  first  it  stunned  sensi- 
bility. Citizens  were  like  men  awakened  at  midnight  by  an  earth- 
quake, and  bewildered  to  find  everything  that  they  were  accus- 
tomed to  trust  wavering  and  falling.  The  very  earth  was  no 
longer  solid.  The  first  feeling  was  the  least.  Men  waited  to  get 
strength  to  feel.  They  wandered  in  the  street  as  if  groping  after 
some  impending  dread  or  undeveloped  sorrow.  They  met  each 
other  as  if  each  would  ask  the  other,  "  Am  I  awake,  or  do  I 
dream  ?"  There  was  a  piteous  helplessness.  Strong  men  bowed 
down  and  wept.  Other  and  common  griefs  belong  to  some  one 
in  chief,  they  are  private  property  ;  but  this  was  each  man's,  and 
every  man' s.  Every  virtuous  household  in  the  land  felt  as  if  its  first- 
born were  gone.  Men  took  their  grief  home.  They  were  bereaved, 
and  walked  for  days  as  if  a  corpse  lay  unburied  in  their  dwellings. 


PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 


There  was  nothing  else  to  think  of ;  they  could  speak  of  nothing 
but  that,  and  yet  of  that  they  could  speak  only  falteringly.  All 
business  was  laid  aside  ;  pleasure  forgot  to  smile.  The  city  for 
nearly  a  week  ceased  to  roar,  and  great  Leviathan  laid  down  and 
was  still.  Even  Avarice  stood  still,  and  Greed  was  strangely 
moved  to  generous  sympathy  with  universal  sorrow.  Rear  to  his 
name  monuments,  found  charitable  institutions,  and  with  his 
name  above  their  heights  ;  but  no  monument  will  ever  equal  the 
universal,  spontaneous,  and  sublime  sorrow  that  in  a  moment 
swept  down  lines  and  parties,  and  covered  up  animosities,  and  in 
an  hour  brought  a  divided  people  into  unity  of  grief  and  indivis- 
ible fellowship  of  anguish  !  For  myself,  I  cannot  yet  command 
that  quietness  of  spirit  needed  for  a  just  and  temperate  delineation 
of  a  man  whom  goodness  has  made  great. 

Reserving  that  for  a  future  occasion,  I  pass,  then,  to  some  con- 
siderations aside  from  the  martyr  President's  character,  which  are 
appropriate  to  this  time  and  place. 

I.  Let  us  not  mourn  that  his  departure  was  so  sudden,  nor  fill 
our  imagination  with  horror  at  its  method.  When  good  men  pray 
for  deliverance  from  sudden  death,  it  is  only  that  they  may  not  be 
plunged,  without  preparation  and  all  disrobed,  into  the  presence 
of  the  Judge.  Men  long  eluding  and  evading  sorrow,  when  sud- 
denly overtaken,  seem  enchanted  to  make  it  great  to  the  uttermost 
— a  habit  which  is  not  Christian,  although  it  is  doubtless  natural. 
When  one  is  ready  to  depart,  suddenness  is  a  blessing.  It  is  a 
painful  sight  to  see  a  tree  overthrown  by  a  tornado,  wrenched  from 
its  foundation  and  broken  down  like  a  reed  ;  but  it  is  yet  more 
painful  to  see  a  vast  and  venerable  tree  lingering  with  vain  strife, 
when  age  and  infirmity  have  marked  it  for  destruction.  The  pro- 
cess of  decay  is  a  spectacle  humiliating  and  painful  ;  but  it  seems 
good  and  grand  for  one  to  go  from  duty  done  with  pulse  high, 
with  strength  full  and  nerve  strong,  terminating  a  noble  life  in  a 
fitting  manner.  Nor  are  we  without  Scripture  warrant  for  these 
thoughts:  "'Let  your  loins  be  girded  about.  .  .  .  Blessed  are 
those  servants  whom  the  Lord,  when  He  cometh,  shall  find 
watching. "  Not  those  who  die  in  a  stupor  are  blessed,  but  they 
who  go  with  all  their  powers  about  them,  and  wide  awake,  as  to  a 
wedding.  He  died  watching.  He  died  with  armor  on.  In  the 
midst  of  hours  of  labor,  in  the  very  heart  of  patriotic  consulta- 


THE  NATIONAL  BEREAVEMENT.  99 

tions,  just  returned  from  camps  and  council,  he  was  stricken 
down.  No  fever  dried  his  blood — no  slow  waste  consumed  him. 
All  at  once,  in  full  strength  and  manhood,  with  his  girdle  tight 
about  him,  he  departed  and  walks  with  God.  Nor  was  the 
manner  of  his  death  more  shocking,  if  we  will  surround  it  with 
higher  associations.  Have  not  thousands  of  soldiers  fallen  on  the 
field  of  battle  by  the  bullets  of  an  enemy,  and  did  not  he  ?  All 
soldiers  that  fall,  ask  to  depart  in  the  hour  of  victory,  and  at  such 
an  hour  he  fell.  There  was  not  a  poor  drummer-boy  in  all  this 
war  that  has  fallen,  for  whom  the  great  heart  of  Lincoln  would  not 
have  bled  ;  there  is  not  one  private  soldier  without  note  or  name, 
slain  among  thousands  and  hid  in  the  pit  among  hundreds,  with- 
out even  the  memorial  of  a  separate  burial,  for  whom  the  Presi- 
dent would  not  have  wept.  He  was  a  man  from  and  of  the  peo- 
ple, and  now  that  he  who  might  not  bear  the  march,  the  toil  and 
battle,  with  these  humble  citizens,  has  been  called  to  die  by  the 
bullet,  as  they  were,  do  you  not  feel  that  there  is  a  peculiar  fitness 
to  his  nature  and  life,  that  he  should  in  death  be  joined  with  them 
in  a  final  common  experience  ?  For  myself,  when  any  event  is 
susceptible  cf  a  nobler  garnishing,  I  cannot  understand  the  nat- 
ure or  character  of  those  who  seek  to  drag  it  down,  degrading  and 
debasing,  rather  than  ennobling  and  sanctifying  it. 

II.  This  blow  was  but  the  last  of  the  expiring  rebellion  ;  and  as 
a  miniature  gives  all  the  form  and  features  of  its  subject,  so,  epito- 
mized in  this  foul  act,  we  find  the  whole  nature  and  disposition  of 
slavery.  It  begins  in  a  wanton  destruction  of  all  human  rights,  and 
in  the  desecration  of  all  the  sanctities  of  heart  and  home.  It  can 
be  maintained  only  at  the  sacrifice  of  every  right  moral  feeling  in  its 
abettors  and  upholders.  It  is  a  two-edged  sword,  cutting  both 
ways,  desolating  alike  the  oppressed  and  the  oppressor ;  and  vio- 
lently destroying  manhood  in  the  victim,  it  insidiously  destroys 
manhood  in  the  master.  No  man  born  and  bred  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  accursed  thing  can  possibly  maintain  his  manhood, 
and  I  would  as  soon  look  for  a  saint  in  the  darkness  of  perdition, 
as  for  a  man  of  honor  in  this  hot-bed  of  iniquity.  The  problem 
is  solved,  its  demonstration  is  complete.  Slavery  wastes  its  vic- 
tims, it  wastes  estates.  It  destroys  public  morality,  it  corrupts 
manhood  in  its  centre.  Communities  in  which  it  exists  are  not  to 
be  trusted.     Its  products  are  rotten.     No  timber  grown  in  its  cursed 


PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 


soil  is  fit  for  the  ribs  of  our  ship  of  state  or  for  our  household 
homes.  The  people  are  selfish  in  their  patriotism,  and  brittle, 
and  whoever  leans  on  them  for  support  is  pierced  in  his  hand. 
Their  honor  is  not  honor,  but  a  bastard  quality  which  disgraces 
the  name  of  honor,  and  for  all  time  the  honor  of  the  supporters  of 
slavery  will  be  throughout  the  earth  a  byword  and  a  hissing. 
Their  whole  moral  nature  is  death-smitten.  The  needless  rebel- 
lion, the  treachery  of  its  leaders  to  oaths  and  truths,  their  viola- 
tions of  the  commonest  principles  of  fidelity,  sitting  in  senates, 
councils,  and  places  of  trust,  only  to  betray  them- — the  long,  gen- 
eral, and  unparalleled  cruelty  to  prisoners,  without  provocation  or 
excuse — their  unreasoning  malignity  and  fierceness — all  mark  the 
symptoms  of  the  disease  of  slavery,  that  is  a  deadly  poison  to 
soul  and  body.  There  may  be  exceptions,  of  course  ;  but  as  a 
rule,  malignity  is  the  nature  and  the  essence.  Slavery  is  itself  bar- 
barous, and  the  nation  which  upholds  and  protects  it  is  likewise 
barbarous.  It  is  fit  that  its  expiring  blow  should  be  made  to  take 
away  from  men  the  last  forbearance,  the  last  pity,  and  fire  the 
soul  with  invincible  determination  that  the  breeding  ground  of 
such  mischiefs  and  monsters  shall  be  utterly  and  forever  destroyed  ! 
It  needed  not  that  the  assassin  should  put  on  paper  his  belief  in 
slavery.  He  was  but  the  sting  of  the  monster  slavery  which  has 
struck  this  blow,  and  as  long  as  this  nation  lasts,  it  will  not  be 
forgotten  that  we  have  had  our  "  Martyr  President,"  nor  while 
Heaven  holds  high  court  or  Hell  rots  beneath,  will  it  be  forgotten 
that  slavery  murdered  him. 

III.  This  blow  was  aimed  at  the  life  of  the  government  and  of 
the  nation.  Abraham  Lincoln  was  slain,  but  America  was  meant. 
The  man  was  cast  down,  but  the  government  was  smitten  at.  The 
President  was  killed,  but  national  life-breathing  freedom  and  be- 
nignity were  sought.  He  of  Illinois,  as  a  private  man,  might  have 
been  detested,  but  it  was  because  he  represented  the  cause  of  just 
government,  liberty,  and  kindness,  he  was  slain.  It  was  a  crime 
against  universal  government,  and  was  aimed  at  all.  Not  more 
was  it  at  us  than  at  England  or  P'rance,  or  any  well-compacted 
government.  It  was  aimed  at  mankind.  The  whole  world  will 
repudiate  it  and  stigmatize  it  as  a  deed  without  a  redeeming  feat- 
ure. It  was  not  the  deed  of  the  oppressed,  stung  to  madness  by 
the  cruelty  of  the  oppressor  ;  it  was  not  the  avenging  hand  against 


THE  NATIONAL   BEREAVEMENT.  iol 


the  heart  of  a  despot  ;  it  was  the  exponent  of  a  venomous  hatred 
of  liberty,  and  the  avowed  advocacy  of  slavery. 

IV.  But  the  blow  has  signally  failed.  The  cause  is  not 
stricken,  but  strengthened  ;  men  hate  slavery  the  more  and  love 
liberty  better.  The  nation  is  dissolved,  but  only  in  tears,  and 
stands  more  square  and  solid  to-day  than  any  pyramid  in  Egypt. 
The  government  is  not  weakened,  it  is  strengthened.  How 
readily  and  easily  the  ranks  closed  up  !  We  shall  be  more  true  to 
every  instinct  of  liberty,  to  the  Constitution,  and  to  the  principles 
of  universal  freedom.  Where,  in  any  other  community,  the 
crowned  head  being  stricken  by  the  hand  of  an  assassin,  would  the 
funds  have  stood  firm  as  did  ours,  not  wavering  the  half  of  one 
percent.?  After  four  years  of  drastic  war,  of  heavy  drafts  upon 
the  people,  on  top  of  all,  the  very  head  of  the  nation  is  stricken 
down,  and  the  funds  never  quiver,  but  stand  as  firm  as  the 
granite  ribs  in  the  mountains.  Republican  institutions  have  been 
vindicated  in  this  very  experience.  God  has  said,  by  the  voice  of 
His  Providence,  that  republican  liberty  based  upon  universal  free- 
dom shall  be  as  firm  as  the  foundations  of  the  globe. 

V.  I  observe  lastly  :  Even  he  who  now  sleeps  has  by  this  event 
been  clothed  with  new  influence.  Dead,  he  speaks  to  men  who 
now  willingly  hear  what  before  they  shut  their  ears  to.  Like  the 
words  of  Washington,  will  his  simple,  mighty  words  be  pondered 
on  by  your  children  and  children's  children.  Men  will  receive  a 
new  accession  to  their  love  of  patriotism,  and  will  for  his  sake 
guard  with  more  zeal  the  welfare  of  the  whole  country.  On  the 
altar  of  this  martyred  patriot  I  swear  you  to  be  more  faithful  to 
your  country.  They  will,  as  they  follow  his  hearse,  swear  a  new 
hatred  to  that  slavery  which  has  made  him  a  martyr.  By  this  sol- 
emn spectacle  I  swear  you  to  renewed  hostility  to  slavery,  and  to 
a  never-ending  pursuit  of  it  to  its  grave.  They  will  admire  and 
imitate  his  firmness  in  justice,  his  inflexible  conscience  for  the 
right,  his  gentleness  and  moderation  of  spirit,  and  I  swear  you  to 
a  faithful  copy  of  his  justice,  his  mercy,  and  his  gentleness. 

You  I  can  comfort,  but  how  can  I  speak  to  the  twilight  millions 
who  revere  his  name  as  the  name  of  God  ?  Oh,  there  will  be  wailing 
for  him  in  hamlet  and  cottage,  in  woods  and  wilds,  and  the  fields 
of  the  South.  Her  dusky  children  looked  on  him  as  on  a  Moses 
come  to  lead  them  out  from  the  land  of  bondage.      To  whom  can 


PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 


we  direct  them  but  to  the  Shepherd  of  Israel,  and  to  His  care  com- 
mit them  for  help,  for  comfort  and  protection  ?  And  now  the 
martyr  is  moving  in  triumphal  march,  mightier  than  when  alive. 
The  nation  rises  up  at  his  coming.  Cities  and  States  are  his  pall- 
bearers, and  cannon  beat  the  hours  with  solemn  procession. 
Dead  !  dead  !  dead  !  he  yet  speaketh  !  Is  Washington  dead  ?  Is 
Hampden  dead  ?  Is  David  dead  ?  Now,  disenthralled  of  flesh, 
and  risen  to  the  unobstructed  sphere  where  passion  never  comes, 
he  begins  his  illimitable  work.  His  life  is  grafted  upon  the  In- 
finite, and  will  be  fruitful  now  as  no  earthly  life  can  be.  Pass  on, 
thou  that  hast  overcome  !  Your  sorrows,  oh  people,  are  his 
paean  !  Your  bells,  and  bands,  and  muffled  drums  sound  in  his 
ear  a  triumph.  You  wail  and  weep  here  ;  God  makes  it  triumph 
there.  Four  years  ago,  oh  Illinois,  we  took  him  from  your  midst, 
an  untried  man  from  among  the  people.  Behold,  we  return  him 
a  mighty  conqueror.  Not  thine,  but  the  nation's  ;  not  ours, 
but  the  world's  !  Give  him  place,  ye  prairies  !  In  the  midst  of 
this  great  continent  his  dust  shall  rest,  a  sacred  treasure  to  myriads 
who  shall  pilgrim  to  that  shrine,  to  kindle  anew  their  zeal  and 
patriotism.  Ye  winds  that  move  over  the  mighty  spaces  of  the 
West,  chant  his  requiem  !  Ye  people,  behold  a  martyr,  whose 
blood,  as  articulate  words,  pleads  for  fidelity,  for  law,  for  liberty. 


SORROW  FOR  THE  DEATH  OF  FRIENDS. 

BY  I.    S.    SPENCER,    D.  D. ,    BROOKLYN. 

But  I  would  not  have  you  to  be  ignorant,  brethren,  concerning  them  which 
are  asleep,  that  ye  sorrow  not  even  as  others  which  have  no  hope. — I  Thess. 
iv.  13. 

At  the  death  of  the  pious,  Christians  should  not  sorrow  as  those 
do  who  are  not  Christians.  This,  I  suppose,  is  the  meaning  of 
the  text,  and  this  the  single  thought  which  solicits  your  attention 
during  this  sermon. 

I.  We  will  restrict  the  application  of  this  principle.  Some  sor- 
rows of  the  irreligious  are  not  to  be  condemned  or  shunned.  We 
will  maintain  that  part  of  the  sorrow  of  those  who  have  no  hope  is 
not  improper  for  a  believer. 


SORROW  FOR    THE  DEATH  OF  FRIENDS.         103 

II.  Wc  will  apply  the  principle,  and  show  what  kind  of  sorrow 
common  among  unbelievers,  is  improper  for  pious  people. 

When  unbelievers  are  called  to  part  with  Christian  friends  by 
death,  their  hearts  are  affected  with  grief ;  and  some  of  their  sorrow 
is  not  to  be  considered  as  improper  for  those  who  have  hope  in 
Christ.      Let  us  see  :  we  name  three  particular  ideas. 

1.  There  is  a  sorrow  arising  from  the  recollection  of  past  endear- 
ments. 

Persons  without  piety  are  affected  with  it  when  their  friends  die  : 
and  the  text  would  not  forbid  this  sorrow  to  them  or  to  believers. 
On  such  an  occasion,  how  natural  it  is  for  the  mind  to  turn  back 
upon  the  past  !  We  recall  the  benefits  of  our  departed  friend. 
Our  mind  wanders  back  upon  the  years  we  have  lived  together. 
We  remember  the  instances  of  kindness,  the  days  of  intimacy, 
the  times  in  which  the  cares  and  counsels  of  our  friend  aided  us. 
We  recall  the  seasons  of  fear,  of  perplexity  and  discouragement, 
when  our  friend  took  us  to  his  bosom,  and  we  learned  to  know 
there  was  one  spot  on  earth  where  we  could  weep  and  be  com- 
forted. We  recollect  how  our  distresses  melted  away  under  the 
soothings  that  fell  from  those  lips,  and  the  kindness  that  beamed 
on  us  from  those  eyes.  But  that  bosom  is  cold,  those  lips  are 
silent,  those  eyes  are  sealed  up  in  death  !  One  for  whom  our 
labors  were  endured,  and  round  whom  our  hearts  hung,  is  gone — 
he  will  meet  us  no  more  !  And  now  we  turn  our  thoughts  down 
to  the  future,  and  are  sadly  reminded  that  we  have  met  with  a 
loss  never  to  be  retrieved  !  We  are  to  go  abroad  :  and  amid 
trouble,  toil,  and  unkindness,  our  heart  cannot  turn  back  for 
its  solace  to  the  friend  who  used  to  cheer  us  when  we  came 
home  !  We  are  to  come  home  :  there  is  a  voice  wanting  in 
the  circle  !  there  is  a  seat  vacant  at  the  table  !  there  is  a  heart  that 
once  opened  to  us,  now  gone — gone  forever  !  We  are  compelled 
to  have  sorrowful  recollections  of  the  changes  that  have  passed 
upon  oifr  lot  !     Midnight  has  settled  down  upon  our  soul  ! 

This  is  a  kind  of  sorrow  which  belongs  to  those  which  have  no 
hope,  and  this  sorrow  is  not  to  be  censured  in  a  Christian.  It  is 
proper  to  dwell  on  the  endearments  of  the  past  ;  to  remember  the 
fidelity  of  our  friend  ;  the  counsels  he  gave  us,  the  conversations 
of  frankness,  and  the  hints  of  delicacy  so  tenderly  flung  out,  lest 
our  sensibilities  should  be  wounded.      It  is  risrht  to  remember  the 


104  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

language  of  the  death-bed — those  tears,  those  prayers,  those  anx- 
ieties of  expiring  nature  !  Yes,  Jesus  may  weep  at  the  grave  of 
Lazarus  :  her  friends  may  weep  when  they  show  the  coats  and  gar- 
ments which  Dorcas  made  while  she  was  with  them.  David  may  go 
up  to  his  chamber,  weeping  as  he  goes  :  "  Oh  !  my  son  Absa- 
lom !  my  son,  my  son  Absalom  !  would  God  I  had  died  for  thee, 
oh,  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son  !"  This  is  one  kind  of  sorrow 
which  the  text  would  not  censure. 

2.  There  is  a  sorrow  arising  from  the  recollection  of  our  past 
failures.  It  is  sometimes  a  very  bitter  sorrow.  When  we  are 
parting  with  our  friends  we  are  prone  to  think  how  little  we  prized 
them,  and  how  very  improperly  we  requited  their  kindnesses  while 
they  were  living.  Even  if  we  did  not  blame  ourselves  for  lack  of 
tenderness  and  affection  while  they  were  alive,  we  are  very  apt  to 
find  good  reasons  for  doing  it  when  they  are  dead.  Then,  how 
every  unkind  word,  every  ungracious  look,  every  emotion  of  in- 
dulged resentment,  will  come  thronging  over  our  memory,  and 
deepening  the  poignancy  of  our  anguish  !  Oh,  how  we  wish  we 
could  live  those  days  over  again,  when  our  ingratitude  or  unkind- 
ness  wounded  the  heart  which  will  bleed  for  us  no  more  !  Oh, 
if  we  could  put  hearing  into  the  ears  of  the  dead,  how  we  would 
confess  our  faults,  and  beg  forgiveness  for  the  errors  which  our 
thoughtlessness  committed  !  This  is  a  kind  of  sorrow  which  chil- 
dren often  feel  when  they  lose  their  parents.  They  bitterly  re- 
member their  disobedience,  their  petulance,  their  unkindness,  and 
the  lack  of  gratitude  for  those  favors  and  that  love  which  flowed 
out  in  such  numerous  instances  of  tenderness  from  the  heart  of  the 
parent  that  never  will  bleed  at  their  unkindness  again.  That 
heart  has  ceased  to  beat.  It  is  cold  and  dead.  Ah  !  if  they 
could  bring  back  its  love,  and  put  its  wonted  sensibility  into  it  for 
a  single  hour,  what  tears  of  penitence  they  would  shed  !  how 
fondly  they  would  ask  forgiveness  !  and  with  what  diminished 
sorrow  they  would  resign  again  to  insensibility  in  death  the  heart 
that  had  forgiven  them  ! 

This  kind  of  sorrow  is  common  with  those  ivho  have  no  hope,  and 
it  is  allowable  for  believers.  It  is  nothing  more  than  a  tender  and 
affectionate  justice.  It  is  due  to  the  dead.  It  is  not  one  of  the 
deceptions  of  grief,  but  it  arises  from  mournful  deficiencies  which 
affliction   brings  to  our  mind,  and  compels  us  to  weep  over,  and 


SORROW  FOR    THE  DEATH  OF  FRIENDS.        105 

weep  the  more  bitterly  because  now  we  can  do  nothing  else  :  the 
dead  are  beyond  our  confessions  and  our  unkindness  forever. 
This  sorrow  arises  from  the  honesty  of  grief.  It  is  profitable  for 
the  living.  It  tends  to  humble  us,  and  tends  to  make  us  more 
careful  and  affectionate  to  our  surviving  friends,  when  our  heart 
bleeds  at  the  remembrance  of  our  cruelty  to  those  who  are  now 
dead. 

3.  There  is  a  sorrow  concerning  them  which  are  asleep,  con- 
nected with  the  consideration  of  our  loss.  You  will  excuse  me  for 
not  attempting  to  sketch  it.  I  cannot  describe  it.  I  remember 
my  father  !  And  I  am  sure  no  words  could  give  any  idea  of  the 
feelings  of  desolation  that  came  over  me  when  I  came  back  from 
his  funeral  and  found  myself  fatherless,  young,  unbefriended,  and 
poor.  Oh,  what  a  dark  wilderness  the  world  was  !  Who  should 
take  care  of  me  ?  Who  should  defend  me  against  the  injustice  of 
a  cold  world  ?  Who  should  educate  me,  and  fit  me  for  the  con- 
flicts of  life  ?  Who  should  soothe  me  when  I  should  be  sick  ? 
Who  should  gently  counsel  me  any  longer,  and  let  me  pour  my 
young  sorrows  into  his  bosom  ?  No,  no  !  language  has  no  terms 
to  tell  the  sorrows  that  came  on  my  heart.  There  is  something 
that  cannot  be  described,  when  we  realize  the  loss  we  have  met 
with  by  the  death  of  our  friends.  Some  of  you  do  not  need  any 
description.  The  wounds  are  fresh  and  bleeding  in  the  hearts  of 
not  a  few  who  are  here. 

And  if  you  have  any  doubt  whether  religion  allows  of  sorrow 
on  account  of  such  a  loss,  look  at  bereaved  families,  and  you  will 
doubt  it  no  more.  You  shall  see  little  children  fatherless, 
stripped  !  But  here  again  I  must  stop.  I  cannot  speak  of  it. 
Let  the  facts  preach  to  you. 

These  considerations  (and  Ave  might  add  to  them)  are  enough 
to  show  that  there  is  a  kind  of  sorrow  for  the  death  of  friends 
which  affects  those  who  have  no  hope,  and  which  is  not  disallowed 
to  those  who  have  hope  in  God.  This  is  the  restriction  in  the 
application  of  the  text. 

II.  We  proposed,  in  the  second  place,  to  show  what  kind  of 
sorrow,  very  common  with  them  who  have  no  hope,  is  improper  for 
believers.      Five  items  will  include  all  we  mean. 

1.  With  those  who  have  no  hope,  sorrow  concerning  them  which 
are  asleep  sometimes  becomes  unsubmissive.      In  the   freshness  of 


106  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

our  affections  it  is  very  difficult  for  us  to  tell  (and  no  one  can  tell 
for  us)  whether  our  sorrow  is  tinctured  with  rebellion  or  not. 
Certainly,  no  one  in  such  sorrow  intends  to  be  rebellious.  But 
when  the  full  sense  of  trial  comes  over  the  heart,  we  are  exposed 
to  feel  that  God  is  dealing  hardly  with  us.  Persons  without  faith 
do  sometimes  feel  so.  The  text  reproves  them,  and  admonishes 
you  that  ye  sorrow  not  like  them. 

Submission  under  such  strokes  may  be  a  most  difficult  thing, 
but  it  is  a  Christian  duty.  Sorrow  and  submission  should  go 
together  ;  not  that  we  should  be  willing  to  be  miserable,  but  that 
we  should  be  willing  that  God  should  reign  ;  and  if  His  dispen- 
sations cause  us  sorrow,  we  should  be  willing  that  our  tears  should 
flow.  Two  considerations  especially  ought  to  restrain  us  from  a 
murmuring  and  unsubmissive  sorrow.  One  is  the  righteous 
sovereignty  of  God,  We  are  His,  and  our  friends  are  His.  We 
live  by  His  sufferance,  and  die  at  His  bidding.  "  The  Lord  killeth 
and  maketh  alive,  He  bringeth  down  to  the  grave  and  bringeth  up. 
The  other  consideration  is,  that  we  are  unable  to  penetrate  His 
designs  ;  and  the  things  which  seem  to  us  most  severe  are  often 
to  be  numbered  among  our  most  remarkable  mercies.  Let  us 
take  them  submissively  at  His  hand.  If  there  is  goodness  any- 
where, it  is  to  be  found  in  God.  Let  us  trust  Him.  Let  us  trust 
Him  in  the  dark.  Let  us  resign  up  our  friends  to  death  like  old 
Eli,  and  say  over  their  coffins  and  their  graves  :  "  It  is  the  Lord, 
let  Him  do  what  seemeth  Him  good."  Let  us  receive  the  cup  of 
bitterness  out  of  His  hand  like  Jesus  Christ  :  "The  cup  which 
my  Father  giveth  me,  shall  I  not  drink  it?" 

I  am  not  going  to  undervalue  the  sentiments  of  grief  or  the  feel- 
ings of  submission  which  often  dwell  in  unsanctiiied  hearts  when 
friends  die.  I  am  sure  that  in  such  cases  there  are  sensibilities 
and  sentiments  deserving  of  all  respect.  And  it  would  be  contrary 
alike  to  the  tenderness  of  humanity  and  of  God  to  insult  the 
wretchedness  of  the  weeping  unbeliever  in  such  cases.  But  we 
must  honor  religion.  It  deserves  honor.  Here,  not  less  than  on 
every  other  point,  it  surpasses  any  ordinary  measure  of  humanity. 
We  must  not  undervalue  the  sentiments  which  grace  implants. 
And  it  is  a  truth — it  is  a  blessed  truth — that  faith  in  God  produces 
a  kind  of  submission  which  unbelief  knows  nothing  about.  Un- 
belief submits  at  best  because  it  inust.      The  time  has  come.      An 


SORROW  FOR    THE  DEATH  OF  FRIENDS.         107 

inexorable  destiny  has  taken  away  a  friend  ;  and  the  power,  the 
right,  the  wisdom  of  God  in  doing  it,  are  not  to  be  called  in  ques- 
tion. The  heart  bows  before  the  majesty  of  a  throne  which  the 
eyes  cannot  gaze  upon,  and  which  the  arms  cannot  embrace.  But 
it  may— it  ought  to  be  different  with  a  believer.  While  his  heart 
bleeds  under  the  stroke,  he  looks  up  to  the  God  that  smote  him  : 
"Though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  Him."  He  turns  from 
the  fresh  grave  of  his  parents  :  "  When  my  father  and  my  mother 
forsake  me,  the  Lord  will  take  me  up."  He  submits,  not  merely 
because  he  must,  not  because  it  is  right,  but  because  he  laves  to 
submit  ;  and  never  does  he  cling  to  the  throne  of  God  with  such 
a  willing  and  submissive  embrace  as  when  his  dearest  friends  have 
dropped  from  his  arms. 

Sometimes  it  takes  repeated  bereavements  to  bring  a  believer  to 
this  sweet  submission.  A  Christian  of  Florida,  of  whom  I  have 
some  knowledge,  once  said  :  "  After  my  husband  died,  and  I  had 
mourned  bitterly  and  long,  my  heart  turned  to  my  children. 
When  my  first  child  died,  all  my  grief  came  back  upon  me.  The 
second  died,  and  I  murmured  !  The  third  died,  and  I  was 
entirely  rebellious  ;  I  thought  God  was  cruelly  and  improperly 
severe  upon  me  !  But  now,  the  fourth  and  last  o?ie  is  taken  away, 
and  I  am  satisfied.  I  know  that  the  rod  with  which  my  heavenly 
Father  hath  smitten  me  was  cut  from  the  tree  of  life."  Grief 
ought  to  be  submissive.  To  make  it  so,  sometimes  stroke  follows 
stroke. 

At  the  funeral  of  President  Davies,  just  as  the  people  were  about 
to  take  up  the  coffin  to  remove  it  to  the  burial,  his  mother,  an 
aged  widow,  came  to  take  the  last  look  of  her  son.  She  gazed 
intently  upon  him — the  tears  fell  upon  the  face  of  the  corpse  as 
she  bent  over  it,  and  then,  retiring  a  single  step  as  she  still  gazed 
upon  him,  she  exclaimed,  "There  lies  my  only  son;  my  only 
earthly  comfort  and  earthly  support.  But  there  lies  the  will  of 
God,  and  I  am  satisfied."  Sorrow,  tearful  though  it  be,  ought  to 
be  submissive. 

2.  Under  such  afflictions  as  the  text  mentions,  those  who  have 
no  hope  are  sometimes  inconsolable.  They  feel  their  loss.  They 
cannot  but  feel  it.  The  heart  is  robbed  and  desolate.  Indeed, 
they  seem  to  think  it  due  to  their  departed  friend  to  resemble 
Rachel,  and  refuse  to  be  comforted.      And  their  consolation  comes 


108  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

only  from  the  fact  that  the  lapse  of  time  wears  out  the  traces  of 
grief.  It  would  be  easy  to  apologize  for  this,  and  justify  it  too,  if 
we  had  no  Bible  and  no  Christ.  Situated  as  we  are  in  this  world, 
all  our  blessings  seem  to  be  wrapped  up  in  a  single  point.  That 
point  is — the  father  of  a  family — is  an  only  child — or  the  wife  of 
one's  bosom.  On  this  point  we  rest.  We  have  nothing  earthly 
without  it.  We  are  compelled  to  feel  so.  And  when  we  have 
seen  surviving  parents  committing  their  only  child  to  its  little 
grave  ;  or  seen  the  mother  bedewing  with  her  tears  the  coffin  of  a 
mature  daughter,  who  had  become  companion  as  well  as  child  ; 
or  seen  the  strong  man  robbed  of  the  wife  of  his  bosom  ;  or  seen 
the  widow  and  her  children  turn  away  from  the  grave  where  they 
had  just  buried  their  father  and  their  friend,  who  has  not  felt, 
that  if  Heaven  could  excuse  any  sin,  it  must  be  the  sin  of  that  heart 
which  should  refuse  to  be  comforted  ? 

But  after  all,  the  believer  ought  not  to  mourn  as  those  who  have 
no  hope.  His  sorrow  ought  not  to  be  inconsolable.  Child,  wife, 
and  father,  should  not  be  such  heart-idols  to  us  that  we  cannot 
give  them  up.  God,  the  blessed  God,  should  be  the  object  of  our 
warmest  attachment  and  our  firmest  confidence.  We  ought  to 
have  only  a  submissive  attachment  to  the  objects  of  earthly  and 
transient  good.  They  that  "use  this  world  ought  to  be  as  though 
they  used  it  not,  for  the  fashion  of  this  world  passeth  away.  Put 
not  your  trust  in  princes,  nor  in  great  men,  in  whom  there  is  no 
help  :  his  soul  goeth  forth,  he  retumeth  to  the  earth,  and  in  that 
very  day  his  thoughts  perish. "  A  believer  may  be  consoled.  He 
ought  not  to  sorrow  as  those  who  have  no  hope.  His  best  friend 
can  never  be  taken  from  him  ;  his  firmest  support  can  never  be 
laid  in  the  grave.  His  God  liveth,  and  he  may  pour  his  sorrows 
into  His  bosom  and  be  comforted. 

3.  The  sorrow  of  those  who  have  no  hope  has  a  character  and 
depth  which  arise  from  their  own  unbelief  and  the  false  estimates 
they  put  upon  the  world.  They  judge  of  the  happiness  of  others 
very  much  as  they  judge  of  their  own.  And  since  their  own 
felicity  is  found  in  the  world,  they  sorrow  for  those  who  are  taken 
out  of  it  as  if  they  were  deprived  at  once  of  all  their  enjoyments. 
They  think  of  the  dead  very  much  as  if  stripped  of  every  comfort 
and  consigned  to  the  dark  and  cheerless  tomb.  This  is  common. 
Go  out  with  me,  and  I  will  lead  you  to  a  desolated  habitation, 


SORROW  FOR    THE  DEATH  OF  FRIENDS.         109 

where  the  widow  weeps  with  her  fatherless  children,  and  bemoans 
the  lot  which  has  taken  the  husband  and  father  away  from  the  com- 
forts of  life.  Draw  near.  Listen.  What  is  she  saying ?  "Alas," 
says  she,  "that  dear  companion  of  my  life  has  gone!  That 
friend  on  whom  I  leaned,  that  father  of  my  children,  that  tender 
husband  who  sought  to  do  me  good,  has  gone  from  all  the  enjoy- 
ments I  hoped  he  would  have  shared  with  me  !  He  sleeps  in  the 
cold  grave  !  No  comfort  can  reach  him  ;  no  voice  of  friendship 
breaks  the  eternal  silence  of  the  tomb  !"  Turn  again  to  another 
habitation.  Here  is  a  mother,  but  she  is  childless.  Fresh  tears 
flow  unbidden  at  the  recollection  of  her  babe.  "  Poor  babe,"  she 
is  saying,  "he  sleeps  in  his  little  grave  !  No  mother's  kindness 
can  reach  him  !  I  can  never  do  him  good  ;  he  has  gone  to  his 
cheerless  and  lonely  tomb  !" 

Sorrow  like  this  is  the  sorrow  of  those  who  have  no  hope.  In 
such  cases  the  Christian  should  not  be  like  them.  He  need  not  : 
no,  he  need  not.  That  little  babe  is  in  heaven.  That  pious  hus- 
band would  gladly  have  remained  to  comfort  the  partner  of  his 
life,  support  her  children,  and  aim  to  lead  them  all  to  salvation  ; 
but  grace  has  taken  him  to  glory.  As  Christians  we  are  extremely 
liable  to  forget  that  which,  as  Christians,  we  rejoice  to  believe. 
We  believe  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  We  believe  at  the 
moment  of  death  the  soul  of  the  Christian  takes  its  flight  to 
heaven.  To  die  is  gain.  Jesus  Christ  verifies  His  promise,  "I 
will  come  again  and  receive  you  to  myself,  that  where  I  am  there 
ye  may  be  also. ' '  The  departed  babe  and  the  departed  believer 
have  gone  to  the  bosom  of  God.  We  ought  not  to  sorrow  as 
those  who  have  no  hope.  We  ought  rather  to  rejoice  that  our  pious 
friends  have  died  on  earth  to  live  in  heaven.  Death  has  done 
that  for  them  which  our  affection  tried  in  vain  to  do.  Many, 
many  times  we  saw  them  "tossed  with  tempest  and  not  comfort- 
ed. ' '  But  now  they  have  entered  into  a  haven  of  rest.  Would 
we  wish  them  back  again  to  be  lashed  with  the  storms  of  life  ? 
Many  times  we  were  unable  to  dry  up  their  tears  and  make  them 
happy,  but  now  God  hath  wiped  all  tears  from  their  faces.  While 
they  were  with  us  we  heard  them  often  lamenting  their  sin,  and 
expressing  many  a  bitter  fear  that  they  should  never  reach  heaven. 
But  now  they  are  afflicted  no  more.  Now  they  fear  hell  no  more. 
Now  they  see  God  face  to  face.      "They  are  come  unto  Mount 


no  PULPIT  AND   GRAVE. 


Zion,  and  unto  the  city  of  the  living  God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem, 
and  to  an  innumerable  company  of  angels,  to  the  general  assem- 
bly and  church  of  the  first-born,  which  are  written  in  heaven. 
They  are  now  like  God  in  perfect  holiness  ;  the  measure  of  their 
bliss  is  full.  "Blessed  are  the  dead  that  die  in  the  Lord,  for  they 
rest  from  their  labors." 

Our  feelings  do  dishonor  our  faith  when  we  think  of  death  as  a 
loss  to  the  pious.  It  is  gain.  It  may  be  loss  to  us  ;  but  it  is 
gain,  it  is  all  gain  to  them. 

4.  Those  who  have  no  hope,  yield  up  their  friends  to  death, 
with — (I  am  sorry  to  be  compelled  to  say  this,  but  it  is  true,  it  is 
greatly  true  ;  I  must  say  it) — they  yield  up  their  friends  to  death, 
with  the  sorrow  of  an  eternal  separation.  It  is  so  commonly — not 
always,  perhaps,  but  ordinarily  it  is  just  this.  Unbelievers  seldom 
joyfully  think  of  meeting  their  pious  friends  in  heaven.  Dearly 
as  they  prized  them,  they  think  little  of  meeting  them  again. 
They  do  sometimes  rejoice  that  their  departed  friend  has  left 
behind  him  evidences  of  piety,  and  is  now  happy  in  heaven.  But 
they  have  no  pious  hopes  of  their  own  which  assure  them  that  they 
shall  yet  meet  him  and  be  united  with  him  forever  in  bonds 
more  endearing  and  tender  than  any  which  death  has  broken.  At 
the  mouth  of  the  tomb  they  give  up  their  friend  forever!  They 
resign  the  parent,  the  brother,  the  child,  in  the  sadness  of  an  eter- 
nal separation  !  Their  sorrow  is  not  assuaged  with  the  assurance 
that  that  parent  shall  own  them  in  heaven — that  that  brother  shall 
take  them  by  the  hand  on  the  hills  of  the  heavenly  city — that  that 
child,  with  more  than  an  angel's  bliss  and  glory,  shall  come  back 
to  their  bosom  in  the  eternal  kingdom  of  God. 

But  believers  sorrow  not  so  over  the  death  of  saints.  They  look 
forward  to  a  happy  meeting.  Their  friend  is  ' '  not  lost,  but  gone 
before."  When  they  shall  be  released  from  the  body  and  take 
their  flight,  that  friend  perhaps  will  rush  to  welcome  them  into 
heaven,  and  lead  them  up  to  the  embrace  of  the  blood-stained 
Redeemer  that  brought  them  there.  Heart  shall  again  open  to 
heart,  and  love  mingle  with  love  in  the  bliss  and  glory  of  the  city 
of  God.  And  when  the  scenes  of  this  earth  shall  be  no  more,  and 
the  time  of  the  resurrection  of  the  dead  shall  be  sounded  by  the 
voice  of  the  archangel  and  the  trump  of  God,  these  blessed  souls 
shall  come  back  again  to  enter  into  spiritual  bodies,  ' '  made  like  unto 


SORROW  FOR    THE  DEATH   OF  FRIENDS.         in 

Christ's  own  glorious  body,  not  having  spot  or  wrinkle  or  any  such 
thing."  Communicants,  friends  separated  by  death,  shall  see  one 
another  again.  Pious  ministers  and  pious  people  shall  meet  at  the 
mouth  of  the  opened  tomb.  Pious  parents  shall  see  their  pious 
children.  Friend  shall  greet  friend,  and  brother  shall  greet 
brother,  as  graveyards  are  broken  up  in  the  day  of  the  resurrection. 
They  shall  be  caught  up  together  in  the  clouds  to  meet  their 
Lord  in  the  air  ;  so  shall  they  ever  be  with  the  Lord.  Comfort  one 
another  with  these  words.  Sorrow  not  as  those  who  have  no  hope. 
Death  and  the  grave  are  dreadful  realities.  We  shudder  at  dis- 
solution. We  fear  the  judgment  of  the  Most  High  God,  and  are 
overwhelmed  when  we  stand  just  on  the  entrance  of  eternitv.  We 
know  the  world  is  little  to  us.  We  shall  soon  leave  it  !  Covered 
with  crape,  we  are  travelling  toward  the  resting-place  of  the  dust  of 
our  fathers.  Our  sins,  our  deathless  souls,  our  God — oh,  what 
amazing  anxieties  crowd  on  our  aching  hearts  !  But  in  the  Gospel 
we  see  everything  provided  for  us  that  sin,  and  death,  and  the 
grave,  and  the  judgment,  and  eternity  can  make  us  need.  If  we 
are  to  die,  Jesus  Christ  can  sympathize  with  us  :  He  has  died 
before  us  ;  He  has  died  for  us.  Oh  death,  where  is  thy  sting  ? 
Death  may  be  a  terror  to  nature  ;  but  death  is  the  servant  of  the 
Christian.  Death  is  yours.  Ye  are  not  death's.  He  shall  not 
hurt  you.  All  he  can  do  is  to  take  up  the  trembling  believer,  and 
put  him  into  the  arms  of  Jesus  Christ,  when  Pie  comes  again 
to  receive  him  to  Himself.  If  we  are  to  give  our  bodies  to  the 
grave,  we  know  who  owns  it,  who  has  conquered  it,  and  robbed  it 
of  its  victory.  Ah,  more  :  we  know  how  he  robbed  it.  Our  best 
Friend,  our  Almighty  Saviour,  has  been  down  into  its  bosom.  He 
has  softened,  sweetened,  sanctified  that  bed  of  sleep.  Oh  !  if  I 
am  a  Christian,  I  would  rather  go  by  that  dark  path  to  heaven, 
than  go  like  Elijah  with  his  chariot  and  horses  of  fire  !  It  will  be 
more  like  Christ.  I  shall  lie  where  He  lay.  I  shall  prove  His 
love.  I  shall  experience  His  power.  This  dead  body  shall  rise  ; 
and  in  heaven,  a  sinner  saved,  redeemed,  loved,  raised  from  the 
dead  and  taken  into  the  family  of  God — in  heaven,  I  shall  love  to 
tell  what  Jesus  Christ  hath  done  for  me.  Angels  shall  hear  it ! 
I  will  tell  it  to  the  old  prophets  !  I  will  hunt  up  my  fathers  who 
go  there  before  me,  and  tell  it  to  them  !  I  will  wait  for  my  chil- 
dren to  die,  and,  as  they  come  there,  I  will  tell  it  to  them  !     Oh, 


H2  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

my  God,  my  God  !  this  is  enough  !  I  will  praise  Thee  for  it  for- 
ever !  Oh  !  I  am  comforted  now.  I  can  bury  my  friends,  my 
minister,  my  father,  my  daughter  ;  I  can  set  my  foot  upon  the 
grave  ;  and,  with  a  heart  filled  with  comfort  from  the  God  of 
heaven,  I  can  wait  the  day  when  that  stilled  heart  shall  beat  again, 
and  those  dumb  lips  shall  speak  from  the  opened  coffin,  and  we 
shall  be  caught  up  together  in  the  air.  "  For  our  conversation  is 
in  heaven,  whence  also  we  look  for  the  Saviour,  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  who  shall  change  our  vile  body,  that  it  may  be  fashioned 
like  unto  His  glorious  body,  according  to  the  working  whereby 
He  is  able  to  subdue  all  things  unto  Himself." 

5.  Those  who  have  no  hope  are  exercised  in  such  cases  of 
affliction  (I  am  ashamed  to  say  it  as  much  as  I  was  sorry  to  say  the 
other,  but  it  is  true  ;  I  am  compelled  to  say  it) — those  without 
hope  are  exercised  with  a  very  ineffectual  sorrow.  How  few  of 
them  make  any  good  use  of  the  affliction.  We  see  them  afflicted 
often.  Where  is  the  sinner  without  hope  who  has  lived  in  the 
world  twenty  years  and  not  had  his  heart  torn  and  forced  to  bleed 
at  the  death  of  some  loved  and  valued  friend  ?  But  what  is  the 
result  ?  We  see  those  without  hope,  then  downcast  and 
troubled.  We  go  to  the  funeral  of  their  friends  ;  we  bear  them  to 
the  tomb  ;  we  come  to  sympathize  with  them  and  beseech  them 
to  lay  it  to  heart,  for  such  is  the  end  of  all  flesh.  But  such  persons 
— these  same  persons  so  afflicted,  so  tender  and  heart- stricken — 
do  not  come  at  the  next  communion  to  the  Lord's  Supper.  They 
mourned  their  friends  ;  they  remembered  for  a  little  while  that 
the  way  he  had  gone  was  the  way  of  all  the  earth.  And  they  be- 
lieved, too,  that  such  an  affliction  would  not  be  lost  upon  them — 
that  the  counsels  and  entreaties  of  the  dying  would  not  be  to  them 
a  vain  lesson.  But  they  do  not  come  to  repentance.  And  while 
their  happy  friend  is  in  the  bosom  of  God,  they  continue  the  same 
rejection  which  gave  the  last  and  the  deepest  pang  to  the  heart  of 
that  friend  in  his  hour  of  death.  The  grass  has  not  sprung  green 
upon  the  turf  that  covers  him  before  they  are  embarked  again  in 
the  world  as  eager  as  ever,  dishonoring  his  memory  by  their 
transient  impressions,  and  his  anxiety  by  forgetfulness  of  God. 

Christians  ought  not  to  sorrow  like  them.  Such  sorrow  dis- 
honors the  dead.  It  pours  contempt  upon  the  anxieties  and 
prayers  of  the  dying,  and   insults  by  neglect  the  grace   of  God 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  DIVINE  CHASTISEMENTS.     113 

which  enabled  them  to  die  in  peace.  No,  no  !  let  your  afflic- 
tions make  you  better.  If  you  are  Christians,  let  your  sorrows 
lead  you  to  mourn  the  sin  which  brought  death  into  the  world,  and 
trust  more  firmly  in  Christ  who  vanquished  death  for  you.  Make 
due  improvement  of  your  afflictions — solemn  improvement.  God 
means  something  by  it  when  He  afflicts  you.  Ask  Him  what  He 
means.  Let  not  the  affliction  sit  lightly  upon  you,  and  for  a  mere 
transient  week.  You  do  not  sorrow  in  a  proper  manner  if  your 
sorrows  do  not  make  you  better  Christians.  They  ought  to  make 
you  better.  They  ought  to  make  you  love  prayer  more,  love 
Christ  more,  love  one  another  more.  They  ought  to  bring  you 
to  the  communion-table  on  next  Lord's  day  in  a  more  tender, 
and  holy,  and  happy  frame.  Death  is  doing  up  his  work  in 
this  communion.  And,  my  brethren,  shall  we  not  make  haste 
and  get  ready  to  die  ?  Where  the  next  blow  shall  fall,  God  only 
knows.  This  father,  this  mother,  this  child,  this  minister,  may 
fall  next.  Oh,  God  !  take  none  of  us  away  unprepared  !  Plunge 
none  of  us  into  hell  !  Lead  us  by  our  warnings  to  our  Saviour  ; 
and  then  come — come  when  thou  wilt — and  take  us  from  the  pains 
of  our  death-bed  home  to  the  bosom  of  our  God. 


THE    PURPOSE    OF    DIVINE  CHASTISEMENTS. 

BY  ARTHUR  T.    PIERSON,    D.  D. ,    PHILADELPHIA. 

For  they  verily  for  a  few  days  chastened  us  after  their  own  pleasure  ;  but 
he  for  our  profit,  that  we  might  be  partakers  of  his  holiness. — Heb.  xii.  10. 

In  nothing,  perhaps,  is  it  so  hard  to  feel  for  ourselves  and  to  help 
others  to  feel  that  God  is  good,  as  in  life's  great  afflictions.  We 
are  so  prone  to  look  only  at  the  present  sorrow  and  forget  the 
future  joy  ;  so  apt  to  dwell  on  the  aggravations  of  grief  rather  than 
its  alleviations  ;  so  inclined  to  interpret  God's  dealings  by  our 
sinful  deserts  rather  than  His  pitying  love,  that,  under  the  burden 
of  some  severe  and  sudden  calamity,  we  feel  more  like  Job's  wife, 
tempted  to  "  curse  God  and  die,"  than  like  that  Old  Testament 
saint  himself,  prompted  to  say,  "  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the 
Lord."     Nor  can  it  be  thought  very  strange  if,  when  one  stands 


ii4  PULPIT  AND   GRAVE. 

and  looks  upon  what  De  Quincey  calls  a  "  household  wreck,"  in 
which  are  brought  to  ruin  not  only  all  one's  bright  hopes,  but  one's 
best  joys  and  purest  loves,  so  that  the  very  heart  itself  seems 
crushed  and  buried  beneath  the  fragments  of  its  idols — it  is  not 
altogether  strange,  if,  looking  upon  what  to  all  human  sight  is 
wanton  waste,  unmingled  woe,  one  cannot,  under  the  sudden 
paralysis  of  the  shock,  feel  that  such  a  blow  was  from  a  hand 
guided  only  by  love.  Is  it  strange,  too,  if  they  who  behold  such 
ruin  of  joy  and  hope  and  love  and  life  itself,  are  struck  dumb — if 
words  of  solace  or  even  of  sympathy  die  on  our  lips,  and  we  who 
would  fain  comfort  and  console,  stand  speechless  and,  looking 
upon  these  earthly  wrecks  of  happiness  and  hope,  ask,  "  Why  is 
this  so  ?  Can  it  be  that  there  is  mercy  in  such  seeming  wrath  ?" 
But  if  we  are  speechless,  there  is  this  comfort  even  to  our  dumb- 
ness :  we  need  not  speak,  for  God  has  spoken.  In  ways  without 
number,  under  every  variety  of  figure,  by  every  mode  of  speech 
and  form  of  illustration,  He  assures  us  that  "  He  doth  not  afflict 
willingly  nor  grieve  the  children  of  men;"  that  whatever  sorrow 
He  sends  upon  us  is  "  solely  for  our  good."  In  the  text,  the 
climax  of  all  possible  representations  of  this  truth  is  reached.  If 
this  do  not  convince  our  understanding  and  appeal  to  our  hearts, 
nothing  can.  God  condescends  to  reason  with  us,  from  the 
analog}'  of  parental  affection,  drawing  both  argument  and  illustra- 
tion. We  have  often  felt  the  beauty  of  the  methods  elsewhere 
used  for  presenting  the  same  essential  truth,  as,  for  example,  where 
God  compares  himself  to  the  refiner  of  silver,  melting  His  people 
down  in  the  crucible  of  affliction  to  "  purge  away  their  dross  ;" 
but  in  this  comparison  is  couched  the  beauty  of  an  unutterable 
tenderness.  You  know  how  a  father  feels  toward  a  son — how  he 
yearns  over  him  ;  how  he  loves  him  ;  how  he  lives  for  him.  You 
know  how  a  father  shrinks  from  the  necessity  of  chastising  the 
son,  yet  nerves  himself  to  the  duty  of  correcting  his  faults,  lest 
sparing  the  rod  he  may  spoil  the  child.  You  know  with  what  an 
agony  of  reluctance  a  father  surrenders  his  son  to  the  surgeon's 
hand,  to  save  him  from  death,  or  the  living  death  of  a  distorted 
and  crippled  form  ;  how  he  would  fain  himself  lie  down  and  sub- 
mit to  be  bound  with  cords  and  probed  by  keen  blades  to  save  his 
boy  the  pain  and  peril  of  such  an  operation  ;  how  his  father-heart 
sickens  and  his  face  grows  ashy  pale  as  he  witnesses  the  suffering 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  DIVINE  CHASTISEMENTS.      115 

by  which  alone  the  child  may  be  saved  from  death  or  deformity. 
Do  you  understand  that  ?  God  can  then  speak,  intelligibly  to  you. 
"  Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that 
fear  him."  If  you  murmur  at  God  in  the  time  of  your  calamity, 
He  says  to  you,  "  Ye  have  forgotten  the  exhortation  which  speaketh 
unto  you  as  unto  children  :  My  son,  despise  not  thou  the  chasten- 
ing of  the  Lord,  nor  faint  when  thou  art  rebuked  of  him  :  For 
whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth. " 

He  addresses  our  parental  instincts,  and  asks  us  whether  we  do 
not  ourselves  know  that  love  and  chastening  are  not  contradictory 
or  inconsistent.  Even  so,  says  God,  do  I  love  whom  I  chasten, 
and  scourge  my  every  son.  Nay,  He  presses  the  analogy  further, 
and  says  to  us  that  we  are  to  regard  chastening  as  an  evidence  of 
love,  a  confirmation  of  our  sonship,  and  because  all  true  sons  are 
partakers  of  this  fatherly  discipline,  its  absence  in  our  case  would 
bring  into  doubt  the  legitimacy  of  our  very  claim  to  be  called 
God's  children. 

Then,  as  this  fatherly  argument  proceeds,  He  appeals  to  our 
best  judgment  whether,  if  we  yield  submission  and  reverence  to 
our  fathers  in  the  flesh,  we  shall  not  be  in  subjection  to  Him  who 
represents  the  perfection  of  all  fatherhood  and  fatherliness. 

I  need  not  say  that  this  doctrine  of  Love  as  the  impulse  and 
interpreter  of  affliction  is  peculiarly  Biblical.  When  calamity  befell 
a  pagan  he  beheld  in  it  a  mark  of  divine  displeasure,  and  at  once 
set  himself  at  work  to  appease  the  wrath  of  Deity.  There  is  a 
tradition  which  accounts  for  the  existence  of  an  "  altar  to  the  un- 
known God  "  at  Athens,  upon  the  ground  of  an  attempt  to  remove 
the  scourge  of  pestilence.  It  is  said  that  when  offerings  to  every 
known  deity  had  been  offered  in  vain,  it  was  suggested  that  some 
yet  unknown  god  might  be  the  author  of  their  calamities,  and 
hence  the  altar  with  its  inscription.  Even  the  ancient  people  of 
God  were  very  slow  to  accept  the  right  view  of  God's  chastise- 
ments. It  is  true  many  of  God's  severer  dealings  were  in  His  dis- 
pleasure, yet  still  not  in  wrath  to  destroy,  so  much  as  in  love  to  re- 
claim His  erring  people  ;  and  only  assuming  a  destructive  form 
when  the  sacrifice  of  some  seemed  to  be  essential  to  the  salvation 
of  the  rest.  It  was  very  proper  then,  that  in  this  epistle  to  the 
Hebrews,  the  apostle  should  inculcate  the  Christian  doctrine  of 
God's   fatherly   chastisements,   teaching  us  to   regard  trial   as   a 


n6  PULPIT  AND    CRAVE. 


discipline  of  love  and  not  a  visitation  of  wrath  :  a  discipline  of 
parental  love,  a  pitying  love,  and  not  to  the  cold  attachment  of  a 
mere  educator  or  disciplinarian. 

And  this  is  the  Scriptural  introduction  to  the  exact  thought  of 
the  text.  God  has  shewn  us  by  a  glimpse  into  the  father's  heart 
what  is  His  motive  or  impulse  in  our  chastening,  illustrating  this 
love  by  a  familiar  comparison  ;  in  the  text  He  shows  us  His  object, 
and  now  the  comparison  becomes  contrast.  Our  earthly  parents 
"  for  a  few  days"  and  "  after  their  own  pleasure  chasten  us  ;" 
our  heavenly  Father,  with  eternal  results  in  view  and  for  our  good, 
that  we  may  "  share  His  own  holiness,"  corrects  us.  The  perfect 
Parent,  the  faultless  Father  above,  bids  us  reason  from  the  imper- 
fection of  parent  love  and  wisdom  and  knowledge  up  to  the 
father  of  all,  that  in  His  infinite  insight  and  foresight  and  affection 
we  may  find  solace  and  comfort. 

I.  The  first  element  of  contrast  suggested  by  the  text  is  this. 
Our  human  parents  punish  passionately,  and  not  always  de- 
liberately. Without  meaning  to,  without,  perhaps,  being  con- 
scious of  it,  they  are  sometimes  simply  giving  vent  to  impatient, 
excited,  or  even  angry  feeling,  in  chastising  their  offspring. 
Brethren,  these  things  ought  not  so  to  be  ;  yet  but  few  parents 
who  have  any  force,  of  character  can  truly  say  that  they  have 
never  allowed  passion  to  gratify  itself  through  the  parent's  rod 
of  correction.  Were  it  not  for  separating  too  widely  the  offense 
and  its  punishment,  would  it  not  be  well  always  to  defer  the  cor- 
rection till  it  can  be  calmly,  dispassionately  administered  ?  It 
may  seem  harsh  even  for  the  word  of  God  to  hint  to  parents  that 
they  in  any  measure  chasten  their  children  "  for  their  own 
pleasure."  Yet  we  cannot  but  think,  after  giving  this  passage 
careful  study,  that  there  is  here  a  divine  rebuke  of  a  great  wrong 
which  we  cover  up  from  ourselves.  We  too  often  chastise  our 
children  in  anger,  and  from  anger.  Without  deliberate  malice  or 
conscious  indulgence  of  our  bad  passions,  we  undoubtedly  do  in- 
flict many  punishments  of  more  or  less  severity  that  would  not  be 
inflicted  at  all  had  we  ourselves  under  perfect  control.  The  im- 
patient impulse,  the  caprice  of  the  moment,  rules  us  and  puts  into 
the  correction  the  sharpness  and  severity,  it  may  be  violence,  of  an 
indignation  by  no  means  wholly  righteous.  The  text  literally 
reads,  "  they  indeed  for  a  few  days   chastened    us  according  to 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  DIVINE  CHASTISEMENTS.      117 

what  seemed  good  to  them,"  and  will  bear  the  interpretation  which 
we  have  given,  and  which  seems  to  have  been  in  the  mind  of  our 
English  translators  when  they  rendered,  "After  their  own 
pleasure''— that  is,  according  to  what  seemed  good  to  their  caprice 
or  impulse.  There  is  no  doubt  some  of  us  can  recall  instances  in 
which  it  still  seems  to  us,  after  the  lapse  of  many  years,  that  in 
perhaps  a  deserved  chastisement  our  parents  were  unconsciously 
gratifying  their  own  bad  temper  quite  as  much  as  they  were  seek- 
ing our  good  ;  and  rare  as  it  is  to  be  hoped  such  cases  are,  they 
are  not  so  infrequent  as  not  to  need  an  admonition  and  to  justify 
the  divine  contrast. 

God  never  acts  from  impulse,  in  haste,  or  in  a  passion,  and  all 
representations  in  the  Bible  that  so  impress  us  do  that  injustice  to 
His  character  which  cannot  be  avoided  while  terms  which  strictly 
apply  only  to  man  are  the  only  terms  by  which  the  idea  of  God 
can  be  conveyed  to  us.  Yet  while  using  human  language,  drawn 
from  human  experience  and  limited  by  human  consciousness  in 
representing  God  to  man,  let  us  remember  that  these  terms  really 
have  an  entirely  different  significance  applied  to  Him.  God  is 
not  susceptible  of  anything  like  passion  as  we  understand  it — 
either  in  its  impulsiveness,  impetuosity,  malice,  or  malignity. 
Even  God's  anger,  mighty  and  terrible  as  it  is,  is  the  unchanging, 
invariable  hatred  of  evil — the  anger  of  principle,  not  of  passion — 
calm  even  in  its  fury,  slow  even  in  its  haste,  cool  even  in  its  heat. 
Our  anger  is  like  the  agitation  of  a  shallow  lake,  rippled  with 
every  breeze,  lashed  into  foaming  fury  by  every  wind  and  tempest, 
yet  falling  into  calmness  when  the  exciting  causes  are  removed. 
God's  anger  is  like  the  great  sea  heaving  its  unfathomable  depths, 
moving  with  solemn  majesty  in  mountain  waves.  Nay,  rather  like 
that  sea  itself,  which  in  its  most  perfect  calm  has  a  mighty  under- 
current that  eternally  and  uninterruptedly  sways  with  resistless 
momentum  against  every  obstacle,  and  makes  the  very  mountains 
abandon  their  footing  and  the  rocks  crumble. 

All  this  is  our  assurance  in  affliction  that  God  can  not  deal 
harshly,  severely,  or  unjustly  with  us.  His  anger  is  not  "  slow  to 
rise  ;"  it  never  rises,  it  never  gathers,  not  even  from  all  eternity, 
for  that  would  imply  change  in  God.  No,  it  is  the  law  of  His 
very  being  that  He  hates  evil  and  with  an  unchanging  anger 
abhors   sin;     His   anger   is   never  greater   at. one  moment  than 


u8  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

another,  though  its  manifestation  may  vary.  If,  therefore,  a  blow 
from  His  rod  fall  quick  and  sudden  upon  us,  let  us  not  feel  that 
God  is  in  a  passion — that  does  Him  injustice.  He  is  a  tender 
father,  infinitely  loving,  yet  dispassionately  dealing  with  us.  With 
the  calmness  of  eternal  patience,  the  steadfastness  of  eternal  love, 
He  afflicts  us  solely  for  our  good. 

II.  Again,  our  earthly  parents  chastise  us  puniiivcly  and  no/  cor- 
rectively. They  aim  more  to  punish  the  offence  than  to  correct 
the  evil  and  reform  the  evil-doer.  Here  is  another  way  in  which 
passion  often  inflicts  chastisement.  An  earthly  father  is  justly 
indignant  at  the  wrong  done — not  angry  for  the  act  as  implying 
disrespect  for  his  own  authority,  but  disregard  of  the  right.  He  is 
grieved  and  rightly  angry  because  the  son  has  offended  against 
truth,  virtue,  honesty,  integrity.  This  is  a  far  nobler  passion  than 
the  caprices  of  ill  temper,  yet  it  is  doubtful  whether  a  parent  can 
be  sure  of  inflicting  profitable  correction  under  its  influence.  It 
hurries  one  into  a  method  of  punishment  which  hardens  rather 
than  softens — which  is  ill  adapted  to  the  peculiar  temperament  of 
the  child,  which  may  restrain  from  similar  offences,  if  at  all,  only 
from  fear  of  the  rod,  and  not  at  all  from  love  of  the  right.  It 
should  ever  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  highest  purpose  of  all  punish- 
ment is  not  the  vindication  of  a  principle,  but  the  reformation  of 
an  offender,  or  at  least  the  salvation  of  others  from  similar  sins. 
A  principle  is  a  cold,  abstract  truth  ;  every  man  represents  an  im- 
mortal soul.  To  contend  for  a  principle  is  noble,  but  oh,  how 
insignificant  all  else  in  comparison  with  the  welfare  of  a  soul  ! 
Now  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  earthly  parents  too  often  think 
more  of  giving  the  offence  its  due  than  of  making  the  offender 
hate  it.  Sometimes,  should  we  patiently  but  lovingly  exhibit  the 
wrong,  showing  to  the  child  its  hatefulness  and  deformity,  it 
might  make  all  punishment  unnecessary,  or  it  might  make  a 
milder  form  equally  and  even  more  effectual.  We  should  study 
more  the  differences  between  children,  and  adapt  our  discipline  to 
their  individual  education  in  right  living.  What  if  a  punishment, 
inflicted  for  anger,  only  provokes  them  to  anger  ;  what  if  the 
severity  of  our  correction  for  dishonesty  only  prompts  to  slyness 
and  concealment  !  What  if  chastisement  for  disobedience  only 
makes  them  hate  our  authority  and  despise  our  restraints  !  Oh, 
let  us  not  forget  that  true  love  of  the  parent  may  help  to  kindle 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  DIVINE  CHASTISEMENTS.      119 

that  true  love  of  the  right  which  is  stronger  than  any  fear  of  cor- 
rection. The  word  here  rendered  "chasten,"  means  educate. 
All  Goa's  chastening  is  meant  to  educate  His  children  ;  His  deal- 
ings are  designed  as  a  discipline.  He  must  punish  our  offences 
against  natural  and  moral  laws  ;  but  the  grand  end  He  proposes 
to  Himself  is  to  secure  our  sanctifkation  and  salvation.  We  do 
our  heavenly  Father  great  wrong  in  our  hearts  when  we  complain 
of  His  dealings  as  severe.  This  is  to  charge  God  foolishly.  Be- 
cause we  are  greater  sufferers  than  many  others,  because  we  are 
visited  with  greater  calamities  than  they,  it  does  not  follow  that  we 
are  greater  sinners  than  they,  or  that  God  is  simply  punishing  us 
— or  as  we  sometimes  think,  persecuting  us — with  harsher  judg- 
ments !  This  may  do  for  a  pagan,  but  never  for  a  Christian  ! 
God  teaches  us  that  with  Him  fatherly  pity  prompts  His  chastise- 
ments. Even  where  he  visits  overwhelming  punishment,  sweeping 
the  offender  from  earth,  it  is  that  the  exhibition  of  His  just  dis- 
pleasure against  sin  may  serve  to  deter  others.  In  all  his  chasten- 
ing He  dealeth  with  us  as  with  sons.  He  aims  to  produce  in  us  a 
higher  life — to  elevate  our  affections,  to  purify  our  purposes,  to  pro- 
duce in  our  hearts  and  lives  some  great  and  grand  result.  If  He 
deals  with  us  less  gently  than  others,  it  is  not  because  He  feels  less 
loving,  but  because  our  natures,  differently  constituted,  demand  dif- 
ferent treatment.  For  in  all  God's  afflictions  He  consults  the  exact 
temperament  of  His  children.  He  knoweth  our  frame.  Our  secret 
habits  of  thought  and  feeling  are  all  familiar  to  Him  :  even  where 
we  are  deceived,  He  cannot  be.  He  never  inflicts  an  unnecessary 
blow,  nor  twice  afflicts  where  once  will  suffice,  nor  uses  one 
method  or  means  when  another  will  answer  better  or  even  so  well. 
The  whole  tendency  of  Scripture  teaching  is  to  instil  in  us  confi- 
dence in  God's  wisdom  and  love.  We  are  to  accept  His  afflictive 
dealings  as  designed  not  to  punish  our  sins,  but  to  purify  our  souls, 
and  prayerfully  seek  to  know  what  in  our  hearts  He  would  change, 
what  in  our  habits  He  would  reform,  what  in  our  lives  He  would 
remove  or  remodel,  and  instead  of  complaining  of  His  severity, 
confide  in  His  affection,  and  co-operate  with  Him  in  producing 
every  good  result.  Our  first  question  in  affliction  should  be 
reverently,  ' '  Why  is  this  ?  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?' ' 
In  this  way  we  may  make  further  chastisement  unnecessary  for  the 
same  result,  and  although  what  God  does  we  know  not  now,  we 


120  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

shall  know  hereafter.  It  is  one  of  the  most  palpable  facts  of  his- 
tory that  the  men  who  have  wielded  the  mightiest  moral  influence 
have  been  prepared  for  it  by  the  severest  divine  discipline.  The 
reason  is  plain.  Only  from  a  strong  nature  can  we  expect  the 
moral  power  which  is  to  mould  other  men  and  work  great  results ; 
yet  in  order  that  a  strong  nature  be  subjected  to  Christ,  dis- 
ciplinary measures  are  necessary  which  would  not  be  needed  for 
those  of  milder  and  weaker  native  character.  Look  at  the  long, 
hard  course  of  suffering  which  fitted  Martin  Luther  to  lead  the 
armies  of  the  Reformation  !  No  less  means  would  have  subdued 
that  great  will  and  made  its  stubbornness  an  element  of  steadfast- 
ness and  stability.  A  degree  of  heat  that  must  melt  down 
the  harder  metals  is  far  more  intense  than  that  which  melts  the 
softest  ;  yet  when  made  into  vessels,  that  which  it  took  the  hotter 
fire  to  fuse  is  far  the  stronger  and  more  enduring  and  serviceable  ; 
while  you  can  bend  and  twist  the  other,  this  is  unaffected  by  hard 
usage.  So  does  God  use  the  chastening  rod  with  tender  con- 
sideration for  our  temperament  and  constitution,  adapting  His 
discipline  to  our  need.  If  we  desire  the  largest  fitness  for  service, 
we  must  submit  to  His  wise  chastening. 

III.  Again,  our  earthly  parents  chasten  us  imperfectly,  not  in- 
fallibly ;  according  to  their  own  fallible  judgment  of  right  and 
wrong.  This  thought  is  suggested  in  the  text  by  the  phrase,  "  ac- 
cording to  their  own  pleasure,"  literally  according  to  what  seemed 
good  or  right  to  them.  The  most  conscientious  and  careful 
parents  may  sometimes  commit  a  great  wrong,  punishing  with 
unnecessary  severity,  or,  it  may  be,  unjustly  and  mistakenly. 
They  may  exaggerate  the  guilt  of  the  offence,  or  fail  to  adapt  the 
correction  to  the  nature  of  the  wrong  and  the  temperament  of  the 
evil-doer.  In  a  word,  all  our  parental  training  is  necessarily  im- 
perfect and  fallible  at  best.  Parental  love  is  imperfect,  and  so  is 
parental  wisdom,  so  that  with  the  best  possible  intentions  grave 
mistakes  may  be  committed  in  a  child's  discipline. 

Here  appears  perhaps  the  principal  emphasis  of  the  text  :  They, 
according  to  what  seemed  good  ;  He,  according  to  what  is  good  for 
us.  God  reminds  us  that  He  cannot  err.  The  chastening  he 
inflicts  is  for  our  profit — and  let  us  grasp  the  full  meaning — not 
only  for  our  profit  is  it  designed,  but  adapted.  Not  what  seems  best, 
but  what  is  best.     Joseph  said  to  his  brethren  with  regard  to  God's 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  DIVINE  CHASTISEMENTS.      121 

strange  permission  of  their  crime  in  selling  him  into  Egyptian 
slavery,  "  God  meant  it  unto  good."  What  He  does  is  "  for  our 
good  always."  Even  while,  like  Jacob,  human  weakness  is  crying 
out  in  despair,  "  all  these  things  are  against  me,"  the  answer  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  is,  through  the  pen  of  St.  Paul,  "  All  things  work 
together  for  good."  Yet  how  weak  our  faith  !  When  God  sends 
suffering  upon  us  we  begin  to  ask,  What  have  we  done  that  we 
should  be  singled  out  as  the  objects  of  God's  displeasure?  But 
God  Himself  says,  "  not  in  wrath  but  in  love  have  I  rebuked  thee," 
and  "  for  thy  profit. "  What  if  we  ourselves  cannot  see  that  we 
need  such  discipline,  or  even  feel  that  it  is  working  us  harm  and 
not  good,  shall  we  trust  our  own  judgment  rather  than  divine  wis- 
dom ?  shall  we  cultivate  a  morbid  gloomy  complaining  or  in- 
different spirit  while  infinite  love  is  unwillingly  afflicting  us,  that 
under  the  chastening  influence  of  sorrow  we  may  grow  into  a  more 
Christlike  beauty  of  character  ?  Oh,  let  us  remember  the  perfect 
fatherhood  and  fatherliness  of  God  !  Divine  knowledge  of  our 
character  and  needs,  divine  wisdom  in  foreseeing  results,  divine 
love  for  His  dear  children — these  are  our  guaranty  that  in  nature, 
measure,  and  frequency,  God  will  adapt  and  apportion  to  the 
temperament  of  His  children  all  His  afflictive  dealing. 

As  to  the  exact  result  He  proposes  in  our  chastisement — the 
profit  He  would  secure — it  is  not  any  merely  human  virtue  of 
patience,  or  any  single  grace  or  virtue  He  would  add  to  our  char- 
acter, but  a  transformation  of  our  whole  self.  This  is  the  profit 
for  which  He  chastens  us,  as  He  himself  defines  it,  "  that  we  might 
be  partakers  of  the  divine  holiness." 

Think  of  the  stainless  purity  of  Him  in  whose  sight  the  heavens 
are  not  clean  ;  as,  in  comparison  with  the  perfect  whiteness  of 
snow,  nothing  else  seems  white.  What  must  it  be  to  share  such 
purity  !  to  partake  of  such  holiness  !  There  is  no  conceivable 
good  to  be  compared  with  that.  It  is  better  than  heaven,  for  it 
makes  heaven.  Will  not  such  a  result  repay  the  patient  endurance 
of  sorrow  ?  Will  it  not  be  a  privilege  to  come  up  out  of  great 
tribulation  and  wash  our  robes  thus,  so  that  they  shall  be  forever 
gloriously  white  and  glistening  ?  The  highest  glory  of  our  religion 
is  that  it  holds  out  to  us  something  to  be  !  The  most  the  world 
offers  is  something  to  have,  or  rather  to  hold,  for  we  can  possess 
nothing  save  what  we  have  in  ourselves  ;  what  we  have  most  truly 


122  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

is  what  we  are — what  we  become.  The  unspeakable  promise 
which  invites  us  onward  and  upwaid  is  not  then,  we  shall  "  have  " 
— even  heaven — that  is  too  small  a  reward  for  a  God  of  infinite 
love  to  offer  those  who  share  His  perfect  bliss  and  glory  ;  but  we 
"shall  be" — shall  be  "  like  Him."  That  is  the  only  thing  that 
represents  infinite  riches  !  God  is  rich,  not  because  of  what  He 
has,  but  of  what  He  is  ;  if  it  were  conceivable  that  the  universe 
were  annihilated,  He  could  not  be  poor,  because  of  what  He  is  : 
and  therefore  He  cannot  promise  His  beloved  any  higher  bliss 
than  to  be  like  Him.  He  does  promise  we  shall  share  as  sons  the 
father's  property;  our  patrimony,  however,  is  not  a  partaking  of 
the  universe,  but  "  of  His  holiness  !" 

IV.  Once  more,  our  earthly  parents  chasten  us  temporarily,  not 
permanently,  as  the  text  says,  "  for  "a.  few  days."  This  phrase  means 
more  than  it  seems  to  imply.  It  probably  refers  to  the  fact  that 
much  of  our  parental  training  looks  to  immediate  results,  not  re- 
mote ones — it  is  with  reference  to  a  few  days,  or  at  most  to  our  short 
earthly  life.  Not  only  do  a  few  days  limit  the  period  during 
which  we  endure  their  chastening,  but  they  limit  also  its  ordinary 
results.  The  effect  is  transient,  not  permanent.  It  is  true  that 
there  are  times  when  parental  correction  looks  with  foresightedness 
into  a  remoter  future,  and  with  pious  anxiety  seeks  to  prepare 
the  soul  for  another  life,  looking  beyond  the  immediate  present, 
these  few  days,  to  the  unnumbered  years  of  the  great  Forever.  But 
how  seldom  is  the  chastisement  of  a  child  regulated  by  such  calm, 
earnest,  prayerful  reference  to  an  immortal  future  !  How  careful 
is  the  parent  then  to  make  the  child  see  the  real  guilt  of  sin,  its 
peril,  its  hatefulness — to  adapt  the  correction  to  these  remote  re- 
sults of  everlasting  well-being  ! 

Now,  God's  chastening  always  looks  to  eternal  results.  That 
which  is  near  at  hand  impresses  us  most  vividly  ;  the  future  seems 
far  off  and  uncertain  ;  we  are  therefore  always  emphasizing 
present  good  and  undervaluing  the  more  precious  things  of  the 
hereafter  ;  we  feel  our  present  ills  to  be  almost  too  heavy  to  be 
borne,  while  the  great  results  which  lie  in  the  future  seem  vague 
and  shadowy.  How  different  must  all  this  appear  to  God,  whose 
omniscient  eye  sees  the  end  from  the  beginning,  and  to  whom  the 
remotest  future  is  as  vivid  as  the  present,  the  remotest  result  as 
real  as  the  present  process  !     The  life  that  may  seem  long  to  us 


GOD'S   VOICE   TO    THE  NATION.  123 

is  nothing  to  Him  who  sees  a  thousand  years  as  a  day.  Hence 
God  speaks  to  us  of  "  our  light  affliction,  which  is  but  for  a  mo- 
ment." If  some  human  being  should  dare  to  call  some  of  our 
earthly  afflictions  light  and  momentary,  we  should  esteem  it  heart- 
less mockery  of  our  grief.  Light!  Is  that  blow  light  that  knocks 
a  strong  man  to  earth  and  buries  him  beneath  the  wreck  of  his 
dearest  joys  and  hopes,  and  seems  to  overwhelm  him  in  a  general 
ruin  ?  Is  that  sorrow  for  a  moment  which  darkens  every  future 
earthly  hour,  covers  every  prospect  with  a  funeral  pall,  and 
through  years  and  years  haunts  the  heart  with  mocking  shadows 
of  former  happiness,  and  as  in  the  old  Egyptian  feasts,  sets  a 
ghastly  skeleton  at  every  table  of  festivity  ?  To  us,  affliction  is 
heavy  and  of  crushing  weight  !  To  us,  it  is  life-long  burden  and 
sorrow.  Why  does  a  pitying  Father  above  call  it  light  and 
momentary  ?  He  sees  the  glorious  results  ;  to  His  eye  the  future 
is  unveiled  ;  the  few  days  of  our  earthly  pilgrimage  are  over,  the 
endless  cycles  of  eternity  begun.  All  sorrow  and  sighing  have 
hushed  their  plaintive  wail,  every  tear  is  wiped  away.  We  have 
come  up  out  of  great  tribulation. 


GOD'S  VOICE  TO  THE  NATION.* 

BY   TRYON    EDWARDS,    D.D. 

Know  ye  not  that  there  is  a  prince  and  a  great  man  fallen  this  day  in 
Israel?— 2  Samuel  iii.  38. 

This  matter  is  by  the  decree  of  the  watchers,  and  the  demand  by  the  word 
of  the  holy  ones,  to  the  intent  that  the  living  may  know  that  the  Most 
High  rideth  in  the  kingdom  of  men. — Daniel  iv.  17. 

This  world  is  a  place  where  God  is  ever  present — walking  about 
it  as  He  did  of  old  in  Eden.  In  various  ways  He  is  ever  address- 
ing us,  as  there  He  did  our  first  parents — now  in  the  lessons  of 
instruction  and  kindness,  now  in  the  tones  of  solemn  monition 
and  reproof,  and  now  in  the  accents  of  terror.  He  comes  to  us 
in  the  morning  light  and  the  gathering  darkness — in  the  bud,  the 

*  Preached  in  Rochester,  N.  Y.,  the  Sabbath  after  the  death  of  Presi- 
dent Harrison. 


124  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

leaf,  the  flower — in  the  summer's  breeze  and  the  whirlwind's  voice 
■ — in  the  gurgling  of  the  streamlet  and  the  roar  of  the  cataract  ; 
now,  as  to  Adam,  in  stillness  in  the  cool  of  the  day,  and  now,  as 
in  some  flaming  sword,  waving  with  its  burning  sweep  around  the 
tree  of  our  richest  blessings  and  fondest  hopes.  But  though  God 
is  ever  about  us,  and  ever  addressing  us,  there  are  times  when  He 
does  this  in  more  than  the  ordinary  sense — when  we  almost  hear 
His  voice  in  audible  accents.  There  are  times  when  the  tones 
that  come  to  us  are  almost  startling — seasons  that  are  echoing 
points — reverberating  stations,  where  God  arrests  us,  that  He  may 
pour  His  appeals  in  all  their  fulness  upon  our  ears  ;  seasons 
every  one  of  which  is  as  a  burning  bush  to  us,  to  which  God  com- 
pels us  to  look,  that  from  it  we  may  hear  His  voice.  Such,  for  ex- 
ample, was  the  day  of  the  assertion  of  our  national  independence, 
when  the  noble  declaration  of  our  fathers  broke  in  upon  the  stillness 
and  security  of  a  king-trodden  world,  unfolding  the  great  princi- 
ples of  human,  dignity  and  right,  and  that  man  is  the  hereditary 
subject  of  none  but  God  ;  sending  doubt  and  paleness  and  fear 
to  the  thrones  of  despots,  and  in  calm  decision  proclaiming  those 
great  principles  which  are  yet  to  revolutionize  the  world,  and  per- 
haps to  prepare  the  way  for  the  universal  spread  and  triumph  of  the 
Gospel  of  Christ.  Such,  again,  was  the  season  when  two  of  our 
ex-Presidents,  in  a  single  day,  and  that  the  jubilee  of  our  country, 
passed  to  their  final  account — when  the  pealings  of  a  nation's  joy 
were  exchanged  for  the  tollings  of  grief,  and  the  sun  that  rose  in 
gladness  went  down  in  sorrow.  Such,  again,  would  be  the  case, 
if  war  should  now  burst  in  upon  us,  with  startling  crash,  like  a 
thunderbolt  from  heaven,  blighting  our  commerce,  and  cutting 
off  and  eating  up  our  wealth,  and  desecrating,  not  to  say  ending, 
our  Sabbaths,  and  spreading  its  almost  numberless  vices,  and  de- 
vouring our  sons  and  fathers  and  husbands,  and  filling  the  land 
with  fear  and  violence  and  blood.  Every  such  event,  whether  past 
or  possible,  is  as  a  sermon  to  a  people,  where  God  is  ihe preacher — 
calling  them  to  repent  of  their  sins,  and  to  remember  and  bow 
to  His  rule. 

And  such  an  event,  my  hearers,  is  that  which  so  lately  and  sadly 
has  sounded  to  your  ears,  and  through  the  land,  sinking  deep  into 
the  nation's  heart,  and  sending  thoughtfulness  to  the  brows,  and 
seriousness  to  the  hearts  of  millions.      I  refer  to  the  death  of  the 


GOD'S   VOICE   TO    THE  NATION.  125 

President  of  these  United  States.  He  has  gone  from  the  highest 
station  of  earthly  greatness — gone,  as  in  a  moment — torn  from  the 
summit  to  which  he  had  but  just  ascended,  and  while  the  plaudits 
were  still  sounding  in  his  ears.  As  the  warrior,  the  scholar,  the 
statesman,  the  Christian,  I  stop  not  to  dwell  upon  his  character, 
or  to  estimate  his  merits.  Standing  upon  higher  ground,  as 
God's  ambassador,  I  turn  to  his  removal  as  a  national  event  in  which 
the  Lord  is  speaking  to  us  as  a  people.  I  say  it  is  a  national 
event ;  for  the  party  views  that  favored  or  opposed  the  man  are  for- 
gotten at  the  grave  of  the  ruler.  Death  has  pushed  them  aside  for 
a  season,  and  the  nation,  like  one  family  afflicted,  bows  like  one 
family  around  the  grave  of  its  head.  And  to  us  as  members  of 
that  family  sound  the  lessons  that  God  is  sending — lessons  to 
which  we  should  bow  with  reverence — lessons  designed  for  our 
monition,  for  our  good.  To  us  as  individuals,  to  us  as  citizens, 
in  all  our  public  relations,  God  is  speaking.  Let  us  then  dismiss 
every  other  thought,  that  we  may  listen  to  His  voice,  that  we  may 
ask  for  and  ascertain  the  meaning  of  His  Providence. 

I.  God,  by  this  event,  is  reminding  us  0/  His  own  supremacy — 
of  His  overruling  Providence.  Prone  as  we  are,  whether  as  in- 
dividuals or  as  nations,  to  forget  God,  His  sovereignty  and  our 
dependence,  we  need  something  ever  to  keep  them  in  our  view, 
something  that,  like  the  miracles  to  Israel  in  the  desert,  or  the 
handwriting  on  the  walls  of  Belshazzar's  palace,  shall  ever  keep 
the  Almighty  before  us.  And  God  sees  this,  and  He  is  ever  send- 
ing sickness  and  sorrow,  and  trial,  and  death,  His  visible  and  ter- 
rible ministers,  to  impress  them  upon  us — ever  to  make  us  feel 
His  providence  and  His  rule.  Every  pang  that  racks  our  frame  ; 
every  sorrow  that  crushes  the  heart  to  the  world's  eye,  or  that 
gnaws  it  with  keener  tooth  in  secret ;  every  sickness  that  points 
with  meaning  finger  to  the  grave,  all  whisper  to  us  of  the  divine 
supremacy.  But  pre-eminently  is  this  true  of  death.  The  agoniz- 
ing throes  of  dissolution,  as  they  send  their  pulsations  through 
the  world,  are  ever  and  loudly  speaking  of  God.  If  there  be  a 
place  on  earth  where  we  are  impressed  with  His  overruling  sov- 
ereignty and  providence — where  we  feel  that  His  will  is  supreme, 
and  that  ever  and  steadily  He  will  carry  forward  His  purposes,  it 
is  in  the  chamber,  and  by  the  bed  of  death.  There  we  see  the 
nothingness  of  earthly  might,  of  human  strength.      Disease  comes 


126  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

on  with  silent  steps  and  unsuspected  progress,  and  soon  so  fixes 
its  grasp  as  to  set  at  naught  human  wishes  and  defy  the  skill  of  the 
wisest  physicians.  And  as  it  presses  onward  with  relentless  power, 
laughing  to  scorn  every  opposition,  and  crushing  in  its  grasp  the 
mightiest  strength  almost  visibly,  we  can  see  that  its  step  is  the 
step  of  God,  as  in  calm  but  resistless  might  it  bears  onward  to  its 
end.  O  !  how  weak,  how  impotent,  is  all  that  man  can  do, 
when  death,  as  God's  messenger,  tears  from  us  the  friends  of 
earth,  to  whom  we  would  fain  cling  a  little  longer,  but  find  in 
anguish  that  we  cannot.  How  intensely,  in  such  an  hour,  do 
we  feel  that  it  is  God  that  "  turneth  man  to  destruction,"  and 
that  His  rule  is  constant  and  supreme  !  Far  more  deeply,  then, 
should  we  feel  this,  when  the  Almighty  thus  appears,  not  merely 
in  the  social  circle,  but  in  the  great  family  of  nations — not  in 
some  remote  and  obscure  apartment,  but  in  a  dying  chamber  to 
which  a  country  is  gathered,  and  at  a  dying  bed  on  which  the  eyes 
of  the  world  are  fixed  ;  and  when  there  with  the  same  resistless 
might,  in  calmness,  in  stillness,  in  terror,  he  bears  onward  with 
His  work  !  Here,  as  we  gaze,  we  feel  it,  almost  tangibly  we  feel 
it,  that  God  rules,  that  He  does  "  His  will,  in  the  army  of 
heaven,  and  among  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth,  and  that  none 
can  stay  His  hand,  or  say  unto  Him,  what  doest  Thou  ?"  It  is 
God  that  hath  done  it,  and  as  we  gather  around  the  sepulchre 
which  He  hath  opened,  we  hear  a  voice  echoing  from  it,  "  Be  still, 
and  know  that  I  am  God  !"  Again,  I  remark,  that  in  the  sad 
dispensation  upon  which  we  are  dwelling — 

II.  God  is  pouring  contempt  upo7i  all  human  greatness.  We  have 
all  read  of  the  Roman  Emperor  who,  to  reclaim  a  miser,  marked 
around  him  with  a  spear  a  space  of  ground  large  enough  for  his 
body,  and  then  said  to  him,  ' '  Now  go  on,  and  add  wealth  to 
wealth  and  riches  to  riches,  and  yet  in  a  few  short  days  this  is  all 
that  will  be  yours  !"  And  often,  too,  have  we  heard  of  the 
memorable  monarch  who,  after  almost  superhuman  conquests, 
commanded  with  his  dying  breath  that  his  shroud  should  be 
borne  aloft,  through  his  armies,  with  the  solemn  and  affecting  mes- 
sage, "  This  is  all  that  remains  of  Saladin  the  Great  !"  And  the 
same  thing  God  is  doing — doing  with  almighty  authority  and 
power  ;  the  same  message  He  is  echoing,  not  merely  to  a  solitary 
individual,  not  merely  to  the  gathered  armies  of  a  monarch,  but 


GOD'S   VOICE   TO    THE  NATION.  127 

to  the  millions  of  this  nation,  and  to  the  very  ends  of  the  earth. 
If  there  be  any  station  which  of  all  is  the  highest,  the  loftiest  of 
earth,  as  lofty,  from  the  character  of  our  nation,  as  the  throne  of 
any  earthly  ruler,  and  far  loftier  because  it  is  not  an  inheritance, 
but  the  free  gift  of  a  free  people,  it  is  that  which  but  lately  was 
filled  by  the  one  who  has  now  gone  from  it  forever  !  And  yet  God 
has  no  more  regarded  it  than  if  it  were  the  abode  of  the  moth, 
the  dwelling  of  an  insect.  It  has  no  more  stayed  His  progress  or 
kept  Him  back  from  His  purposes,  than  the  atom  in  the  air  could 
stay  the  progress  of  some  rolling  world.  And  by  all  this  He  is 
pouring  contempt  upon  the  honors,  and  stations,  and  glories  of 
the  earth.  But  a  few  months  since  and  our  entire  nation  was 
shaken  by  the  struggle  for  this  very  place  that  death  has  now  so 
fearfully  made  vacant.  Strong  convulsions  seemed  upon  us,  and 
deep  heavings  of  excitement,  like  the  coming  throes  of  some 
moral  earthquake.  And  now  when  that  excitement  is  over,  and 
all  our  plans  seemed  fixed,  God  has  blown  upon  them,  and  they 
are  withered  in  a  moment.  Lofty  as  was  that  station,  and  high 
as  were  the  hopes,  and  bright  as  were  the  prospects  of  its  pos- 
sessor, death  dashed  on  as  madly  and  as  gladly  to  riot  in  them 
all,  as  though  his  victim  had  been  the  veriest  outcast  upon  earth. 
Where  but  a  few  weeks  since  those  heart-strings  were  vibrating 
to  the  breath  of  millions,  they  are  now  still  forever.  Where  was 
the  shout,  and  the  plaudit,  and  the  gathering  throng,  and  the 
heedless  and  giddy  dance,  there  is  now  the  stillness  and  sadness  of 
the  chamber  of  death,  and  the  funeral  procession,  and  the  deso- 
late home,  and  the  silent  grave.      So  ends  all  human  greatness  ! 

"  The  boast  of  heraldry,  the  pomp  of  power, 

And  all  that  beauty,  all  that  wealth  e'er  gave, 
Await  alike  the  inevitable  hour  ; 
The  path  of  glory  leads  but  to  the  grave." 

"  The  riches,  glories,  honors  of  the  earth, 
And  they  who  hold  them,  all  are  speeding  there  ; 
There  shall  the  worm  feed  on  them — that's  their  end  !" 

Oh  !  how  vain,  what  utter  nothingness,  seem  all  the  pomp, 
the  glory,  the  greatness  of  earth,  when  the  shadow  of  the  grave 
is  upon  it,  when  death  has  unmasked  it,  and  shown  it  to  us  as 
God  beholds  it,  as  eternity  will  reveal  it !  Again,  I  remark,  that 
the  dispensation  before  us — 


128  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

III.  Jlfay  well  rebuke  the  violence  of  party  strifes,  and  sofieii  the 
temper  of  party  feelings.  Somewhere  I  have  seen  the  story  of  two 
brothers  who  in  bitter  enmity  had  hated  each  other  for  years,  but 
who,  as  they  met  at  their  father's  opening  grave,  were  humbled, 
and  melted,  and  subdued,  and  there  rushed  in  tears  to  each  other's 
arms  and  were  reconciled  forever.  Would  that  such  an  effect 
might  here  be  produced  on  the  parties  that  exist,  and  ever  must 
exist  in  our  land  ;  that  here  at  "  the  reconciling  grave"  all  vio- 
lence and  bitterness  might  cease  ;  that  here  their  asperities  might 
end,  and  their  prejudices  die  away  ;  and  that  here,  if  like  Abram 
and  Lot  they  must  be  separate,  in  the  kind  language  of  the  former 
they  might  say  to  each  other,  "  Let  there  be  no  strife  between  us, 
for  we  are  brethren."  By  the  side  of  the  grave  shall  we  not,  do 
we  not,  feel  our  brotherhood  ?  Here  shall  not  the  prejudice,  and 
the  unkindness,  and  the  narrowness  of  party  wilfulness  and  vehe- 
mence be  forgotten  amid  the  touching  and  hallowed  lessons  of  the 
narrow  house  ?  Here  shall  not  the  voice  of  God  be  heard,  saying 
to  every  surge  of  party  bitterness,  "  Peace,  be  still  "  ?  Here 
shall  not  our  great  opposing  parties,  like  the  members  of  some 
family,  who  while  living  in  enmity  are  summoned  to  some  com- 
mon grave,  hear  the  voice  that  sounds  to  them  from  above,  calling 
them  to  renounce  their  alienation  forever  ?  Honest  party  differ- 
ences we  must  expect  will  exist  ;  and  thorough  and  frequent 
scrutiny  of  opposing  principles,  we  must  expect  will  ever  be 
made  ;  and  both  are  deeply  to  be  respected  and  desired,  for  they 
are  the  pledge  of  our  safely.  But  there  is  too  often  a  disingenuous- 
ness  of  party  perversion,  and  a  personality  of  party  suspicion  and 
attack,  and  a  littleness  and  loathsomeness  of  party  abuse,  that 
"  denies  the  whole  body"  politic,  and  "  sets  on  fire  the  course  of 
nature,  and  is  set  on  fire  of  hell  !"  It  regards  not  the  sacredness 
of  private  character,  or  of  domestic  life.  It  hurls  its  poisoned 
shafts  at  the  highest  because  they  are  exalted,  and,  if  possible,  to 
cast  them  down  from  their  elevation.  Regardless  of  God's  com- 
mand that  we  honor  our  rulers,  it  treats  them,  because  they  are 
our  representatives,  as  though  they  were  the  basest  of  menials  and 
slaves.  With  the  spirit  of  the  slanderer  and  the  assassin,  it  hews 
down  the  individual,  where  with  the  manliness  of  the  statesman,  it 
should  discuss  the  principle.  It  is  inconsistent  with  self-respect, 
with  the  kindly  feelings  of  social  life,  and  with  the  courtesies  that 


GOD'S   VOICE   TO    THE  NATION.  129 

are  ever  due  from  man  to  man  ;  and  it  should  humble  us  in  our 
own  estimation,  as  it  disgraces  us  in  the  eyes  of  the  civilized  world. 
Would  that  one  grave  were  deep  enough  to  swallow  it  up  for- 
ever !  And  by  this  grave  which  God  hath  opened,  is  He  not  call- 
ing us  to  lay  it  aside,  to  do  all  in  our  power  to  discountenance 
and  destroy  it,  reminding  us  that  that  which  we  feel  should  cease 
at  the  tomb,  at  once  should  cease  forever  ! 

IV.  God,  by  the  dispensation  before  us,  is  rebuking  us  for  our 
national  sins,  and  calling  us  to  repent  0/ 'and  forsake  them.  As  when 
He  comes  to  a  family  by  affliction,  He  is  often  chastising  them  for 
their  sins,  and  calling  them  to  search  out  and  ponder  their  trans- 
gressions, and  to  forsake  them  by  deep  and  humble  repentance, 
so  it  is  with  nations.  And  by  the  chastisement  with  which  He  has 
now  come  to  us,  tearing  from  us,  as  a  nation,  our  chosen  ruler 
and  head,  loudly  is  He  calling  upon  us  to  forsake  our  sins,  lest  a 
deeper  and  a  darker  judgment  be  sent  upon  us.  Man-worship, 
and  party  recklessness,  and,  ambition,  and  worldliness,  and  pride, 
and  profaneness,  and  intemperance,  and  then  those  deeper  and 
darker  crimes,  legalized  Sabbath -breaking,  and  slavery,  crushing 
in  its  grasp  the  bodies,  and  what  is  far  more,  the  souls  of  millions 
and  trampling,  in  them,  on  God's  image — these  are  some  of  the 
many  sins  that  rise  up  from  our  land  in  dark  clouds  of  guilt, 
threatening  to  descend  in  storms  of  curses  upon  us.  Long  have 
they  been  calling  with  iron  voice,  with  deathless  peal,  to  Heaven 
for  vengeance.  Amid  the  bustle  and  tumult  of  the  world,  we  may 
not  have  heard  their  cry.  But  God  has  heard  it,  and  the  vials  of 
His  wrath  have  been  filled,  and  He  has  been  ready  to  pour  them 
out,  in  their  fury,  upon  us.  And  yet,  as  is  like  Himself,  He  is 
still  waiting  for  our  repentance.  Already  He  has  warned  us  by 
many  and  startling  monitions.  He  has  sent  the  pestilence  lo 
ravage  our  borders,  and,  the  flame  to  consume  our  cities,  and  fear- 
ful disasters  to  our  seas  and  rivers,  to  make  them  the  theatres  of 
suffering  and  death.  He  has  prostrated  our  commerce,  and 
blighted  the  plans  and  swept  away  the  wealth  of  individuals,  and 
given  our  states  to  embarrassment,  and  hung  out  the  portents  of 
war  in  the  heavens.  And  as  all  these  were  not  enough,  He  has 
now  sent  this  national  affliction — this  deep  and  humbling  and 
monitory  judgment,  again  to  call  us  to  repent,  lest  He  come  out 
in  deeper  and  darker  and  desolating  wrath.     And  if  we  fail  to  do 


130  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

it,  other  visitations  may  be  upon  us  ;  and  we  may  yet  feel,  in  our 
own  experience,  the  full  meaning  of  that  fearful  declaration,  that 
"  The  nation  that  will  not  serve  Him  shall  perish  !"  If  we  refuse 
to  humble  ourselves  before  Him,  though  no  voice  of  inspired  pre- 
diction should  declare  it,  "  our  own  sins  shall  be  the  sure  proph- 
ets of  our  coming  woes."  In  them  we  may  read  God's  fiat,  as 
palpably  as  though  it  were  written  on  every  cloud  of  the  heavens 
in  letters  of  living  flame.  God  may  let  loose  upon  us  the  furies 
of  war  from  without,  or  He  may  develop  the  elements  of  ruin 
from  within.  In  the  fearful  thought  of  Burke,  He  may  leave 
"  our  own  passions  to  forge  our  fetters,"  or  slavery,  in  some  deep 
and  providential  upheavings,  to  pour  out  ruin  upon  us,  or  politi- 
cal volcanoes  to  disgorge  their  fires  to  consume  us.  In  the  strong 
language  of  Milton,  "God,"  in  indignation,  may  "become 
weary  of  protecting  us,  so  that  after  we  have  passed  through  the 
fire  He  may  leave  us  to  perish  in  the  smoke."  He  may  give  us 
up  to  desolation  from  abroad,  or  to  faction  and  violence  in  our 
own  midst,  or  He  may  destroy  us  by  gradual  and  lingering  decay 
— by  giving  us  up  to  moral  degradation  ("for  a  nation  dies 
when  the  spirit  of  all  that  is  noble  and  good  dies  within  it"), 
leaving  our  sins  to  eat  out  our  very  life,  and  His  abused  and  per- 
verted mercies  to  work  out  their  own  revenge  and  our  destruction. 
And  then,  over  us,  as  over  the  mouldering'  ruins  of  the  once 
splendid  but  now  heaven-stricken  cities  of  the  plain  or  the  desert, 
the  travellers  of  future  ages  may  wander  in  sadness,  and  over  us, 
as  over  them,  may  be  written  the  striking  and  fearful  inquest, 
"  Died  by  the  visitation  of  God  !"  Let  us  then  be  warned  by 
this  the  first  stroke  of  God,  before  He  shall  follow  it  with  deeper 
and  darker  judgments.  Let  us  "  humble  ourselves,  under  the 
mighty  hand  of  God,"  in  view  of  our  guilt,  lest  He  be  compelled 
to  humble  us.  Let  us  humble  ourselves  as  individuals,  and  as  a 
people — deploring  our  sins  as  a  nation — turning  from  them  by 
deep  and  sincere  repentance,  that  the  anger  of  the  Lord  may  be 
averted,  and  that  He  may  return  in  mercy  to  dwell  with  us,  sancti- 
fying us  through  all  His  gifts,  leading  us  to  humble  and  reverent 
submission  to  His  will,  and  to  a  wise  improvement  of  all  His 
mercies,  that  thus  He  may  be  "  a  wall  of  fire  round  about  us,  and 
a  glory  in  our  midst,"  ever  making  us  "  that  happy  people 
whose  God  is  the  Lord. ' ' 


GO  US   VOICE   TO    THE  NATION.  131 

V.  God  by  the  dispensation  before  us,  is  coming  personally  to  our- 
selves, warning  us  of  the  uncertainty  of  life,  and  calling  upon  us 
ever  to  be  prepared  for  death.  This  world  is  a  world  of  death. 
The  march  of  time,  like  some  vast  and  endless  funeral  procession, 
is  bearing  us  all  onward  to  the  tomb.  If  we  look  to  the  past, 
nation  after  nation  is  moving  to  eternity,  as  wave  follows  wave  to 
dash  and  die  upon  the  shore.  Their  untold  millions  flit,  like 
graveyard  shadows  before  us,  and  even  while  we  gaze  upon  them 
they  are  gone  from  our  view  forever.  And  if  from  the  past  we 
turn  to  the  present,  here  too  the  king  of  terrors  is  ever  at  his  work. 
All  around  us  graves  are  opening  ;  monuments  are  rising  ;  friends 
are  departing  to  the  world  of  spirits.  Even  while  we  cling  to 
them,  a  mighty  and  unseen  hand  tears  them  from  us,  and  their 
faces  are  seen  and  their  voices  are  heard  no  more.  •  In  all  the 
past,  in  all  the  present,  generation  after  generation  passes  in 
silent  and  spectral  march  before  us,  warning  us  by  their  shadowy 
forms,  "  what  shades  we  are,  what  shadows  we  pursue,"  and  sol- 
emnly beckoning  us  after  themselves,  on  to  the  judgment.  Of 
every  death  it  is  true  that  it  unmasks  the  world  to  us — that  it  shows 
us  the  uncertainty  of  life,  and  the  frailty  of  all  human  hopes.  Of 
every  grave  it  is  true  that 

"  "Tis  the  pulpit  of  departed  man, 

From  which  he  speaks — his  text  and  doctrine  both, 
'  Thou  too  must  die,  and  come  to  judgment !'  " 

But  when  God,  as  now,  sends  the  warning  from  the  high  places 
of  the  earth,  it  comes  to  us,  though  with  the  same  lesson,  yet  with 
a  deeper  and  more  monitory  tone.  When  we  think  what  were 
the  hopes  and  prospects  of  the  departed — how  the  future  spread 
out  in  brightness  before  him— how  he  had  just  laid  his  hand  on 
the  prize  that  had  been  hoped  for  for  years.;  and  then  when  we 
think  how,  after  four  short  weeks,  he  is  torn  from  it  forever — how 
the  garland  has  withered  in  his  grasp,  and  the  joy  has  crumbled  as 
he  touched  it,  and  the  pomp  of  life  is  exchanged  for  the  stillness 
of  the  grave,  and  the  admiring  gaze  of  men  for  the  searching 
glance  of  God,  and  the  estimates  of  earth  for  the  just  judgment 
of  Jehovah — in  the  light  of  all  these  things,  oh,  how  little,  how 
as  nothing  does  this  world  appear  compared  with  that  to  which  he 
is  gone  and  we  are  hastening  !     Could  the  heavens  be  rent,  and 


132  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

the  voice  of  the  departed  now  be  heard  from  the  world  of  spirits, 
first  of  all  would  he  not  warn  us  that  we  too  are  to  die  and  to  pass 
to  the  judgment — that  heaven  or  hell  is  before  us — that  the  grave, 
which  is  but  the  passway  to  the  one  or  the  other,  will  soon  open 
beneath  our  feet,  and  that  we,  as  in  a  moment,  may  sink  to  it,  no 
more  to  rise  but  to  life  or  death  eternal  ?  Gone,  as  he  has  gone, 
from  the  pomp  and  pageantry  of  earth  to  the  realities  of  an  endless 
state,  and  having  gazed  upon  the  blessedness  of  the  redeemed — 
hearing  the  harping  of  their  harps,  and  witnessing  their  joys 
and  rapture  which  no  tongue  can  tell,  and  there,  too,  having 
looked  down  upon  the  horrors  of  the  bottomless  gulf,  where  their 
worm  dieth  not,  and  their  fire  is  not  quenched,  and  the  wrath  of 
God  burns  forever,  if  now  he  could  come  back,  would  not  his 
first  warnings  be  of  the  soul,  and  of  God,  and  the  judgment,  and 
heaven,  and  hell  ?  Would  not  earth,  with  all  its  glories,  now 
seem  as  nothing  to  him— its  wealth  as  but  glittering  dust — its 
pleasures  but  as  the  empty  wind — its  honors  but  as  a  fading 
flower,  a  flitting  dream,  blown  by  a  breath  away  forever  ?  The 
soul,  the  soul,  the  never-dying  soul — would  not  this  be  his  only 
and  his  burning  theme,  and  would  he  not  warn  you  in  God's 
name,  and  by  the  realities  that  he  has  witnessed,  "to  workout 
your  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling"  before  it  be  forever  too 
late  ?  In  his  last,  and  as  now  we  may  almost  call  it,  his  dying 
message,  from  the  station  where  God  had  placed  him,  he  earnestly 
commends  Christianity — not  some  vague  and  indefinite  religion, 
but  the  religion  of  the  cross — the  atoning  system  of  a  crucified  Re- 
deemer— to  this  widely  extended  people,  and  among  them  to  our- 
selves. And  now  may  we  not  imagine  him  bending  from  another 
world,  and  as  a  preacher  from  eternity  reiterating  to  us,  by  all  the 
sanctions  of  the  unseen  state,  that  in  the  cross,  in  the  cross,  is 
our  only  hope,  and  asking,  with  solemn  earnestness,  of  each  one 
of  us,  "  What  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  shall  gain  the  whole  world 
and  lose  his  own  soul,  and  what  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for 
his  soul?"  Yes — we  may — we  may;  and  what  is  far  more,  we 
may  hear  God's  voice  sounding  to  us  from  this  opening  grave  and 
this  departed  spirit,  warning  us  to  prepare — to  prepare  !  As  by 
every  death,  so  pre-eminently  by  this,  He  warns  us  that  our  time 
is  short,  that  our  salvation  is  at  hazard,  and  that  if  we  would  ever 
be  saved,  we  must  ' '  do  with  our  might  what  our  hands  find  to 


THE  FUNERAL    OF  THE  SOUL,  133 

do" — "  working  out  our  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling" — lay- 
ing hold  on  life  while  yet  it  may  be  ours.  This  is  the  great  end 
of  all  God's  dealings,  the  solemn  and  personal  close  of  every  ap- 
peal and  warning  and  truth,  whether  from  His  providence  or 
Word  or  Spirit — that  you,  too,  are  to  die,  and  that  you  prepare 
for  it  now,  while  yet  you  may.  Look  not  away  then  from  this 
solemn  truth,  when  it  is  thus  written  on  the  heavens  above,  and 
echoed  from  the  earth  beneath,  and  when  ere-long  it  shall  gleam 
upon  you  from  the  flaming  heavens,  and  the  convulsed  and  dis- 
solving world,  and  the  burning  throne  of  judgment.  Look  not 
away  from  the  thought  that  die  you  must,  and  when,  you  cannot 
tell.  Here  in  this  house  of  prayer — around  this  grave  which  God 
has  opened — by  the  coming  hour  of  your  own  death — by  our 
meeting  at  the  judgment  seat,  I  entreat  you  to  listen  to  these 
warnings,  to  prepare  for  the  coming  of  the  Son  of  Man.  Speed- 
ing as  you  are  to  the  dying  chamber,  and  the  winding-sheet,  and 
the  final  hour,  hurried  as  you  soon  may  be,  as  in  a  moment,  to 
the  bar  of  God,  and  the  retributions  of  an  eternal  state,  again  I 
entreat  you  to  prepare,  before  your  probation  is  forever  wasted, 
and  your  soul  forever  lost ! 


THE  FUNERAL  OF  THE  SOUL. 

BY    H.    B.    HOOKER,   D.D.,    FALMOUTH,    MASS. 
And  these  shall  go  away  into  everlasting  punishment. — Matt.   xxv.  46. 

As  we  are  all  familiar  with  the  event  of  death,  so  are  we  also 
with  its  usual  accompaniment,  a  funeral.  We  associate  these 
events  together,  as  the  one  naturally  and  necessarily  follows  the 
other. 

But  while  we  recognize  the  fact,  and  often  think  of  the  funeral 
of  the  body,  is  there  not  also  what  may  be  called  the  funeral  of 
the  soul  ?  If  natural  death  occasions  a  necessity  for  one  of  these 
events,  why  may  we  not  believe  spiritual  death  creates  a  like 
necessity  for  the  other  ?  If  it  be  a  fact,  that  natural  death  causes 
such  a  change  in  the  state  of  the  body,  that  funeral  rites  must  be 
performed,  and  that  the  body  must  be  removed  from  all  connec- 


134  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

tion  with  the  living,  is  it  anything  unreasonble  to  believe  that 
spiritual  death  produces  such  a  state  of  the  soul  that  funeral  solem- 
nities should  be  performed  over  that,  and  that  there  should  be  a 
removal  of  it  from  the  society  of  all  the  holy  and  the  happy? 

In  proof  of  such  a  fact,  the  text  and  context  are  clear  and  de- 
cisive.     Hence,  my  present  topic  is  The  Funeral  of  the  Soul. 

1.  Various  facts  are  implicated  in  such  an  event,  impor- 
tant TO  BE  NOTICED. 

i.  That  the  kindest  efforts  have  been  made  to  prevent  the  necessity 
of  such  a  funeral.  Who  does  not  strive  to  arrest  the  hand  of  tem- 
poral death  ?  Had  you  ever  a  departed  friend  whose  funeral  you 
would  not  have  prevented  had  it  been  in  your  power  ? 

And  has  there  not  been  much  done  in  the  kindest  way,  to  pre- 
vent the  funeral  of  the  soul  ?  Was  there  not  an  atoning- sacrifice, 
of  astonishing  value,  once  offered  for  the  very  purpose  of  prevent- 
ing this  melancholy  event  ?  Has  not  the  Holy  Spirit,  the 
Heavenly  Dove,  been  spreading  his  wings  in  all  directions  to  stay 
such  a  catastrophe  ?  Has  there  not  been  sent  to  the  human  race  a 
whole  volume  of  every  variety  of  dissuasives  from  such  courses  as 
would  lead  to  such  an  event  ?  And  has  there  been,  anywhere  in 
a  Christian  land,  a  human  soul  that  has  not  been  surrounded  by 
kind  friends  who  have  been  deeply  interested  in  preventing  its 
funeral  ?  Was  there  not  warning,  and  entreaty,  and  prayer  ? 
And  could  that  benevolence  have  prevailed  in  leading  the  sinner 
from  his  sins,  would  there  have  been  the  funeral  of  the  soul  ? 

2.  It  is  implied  in  the  funeral  of  the  soul,  that  all  the  efforts  of 
kindness  to  prevent  it  have  failed.  So  we  judge  when  we  attend 
the  funeral  of  the  body.  As  we  look  upon  the  wreck  and  ruin  of 
death,  we  see  that  all  the  tenderness  of  love,  and  all  the  assiduity 
and  self-denial  of  kindness  have  been  baffled,  and  that  disease  and 
death  have  had  their  triumphant  way. 

So  the  idea  of  the  funeral  of  the  soul  carries  with  it  the  idea 
that,  whatever  have  been  the  offices  of  Christian  kindness  to  pre- 
vent that  dreadful  event,  they  have  all  failed.  The  love  of  Christ, 
as  a  dissuasive  from  its  sins,  has  been  set  before  it  in  vain.  The 
gracious  Spirit  has  striven  without  success.  All  the  rebukes  of 
conscience  availed  not.  And  Christian  admonitions  were  wasted 
on  unyielding  hardness  of  heart. 

3.  The  funeral  of  the  soul  is  most  decisive  of  the  fact,  thatil  is 


THE  FUNERAL    OF  THE  SOUL.  135 

actually  dead  /  We  do  not  bury  the  living  body,  but  only  the 
dead.  The  smallest  degree  of  life  stays  us.  The  pulsations  may 
be  so  feeble  as  to  require  the  closest  and  most  delicate  scrutiny  to 
detect  them.  But,  if  they  exist  at  all,  there  will  be  no  burial. 
The  procedure  of  the  burial  is  founded  on  the  most  perfect  assur- 
ance of  death. 

So  it  is  because  the  soul  is  dead  that  there  is  a  funeral  of  it. 
No  such  solemnity  would  occur  if  there  were  the  least  spark  of 
spiritual  life.  The  slightest  pulsation  of  such  life  would  save  it 
from  that  awful  solemnity.  Never  was  there  the  burial  of  a  soul 
that  was  not  dead.  No  such  event  could  possibly  occur  under 
the  government  of  God. 

4.  With  the  funeral  of  a  soul  we  cannot  avoid  associations  0/ sor- 
row. It  is  always  so  in  reference  to  the  body.  Its  burial  !  How 
often  it  implies  the  burial  of  sweetest  happiness  and  fondest 
hopes  !  That  scene  pours  a  tide  of  bitterness  through  bereaved 
bosoms.      How  many  sighs  !     How  many  tears  ! 

But  before  there  can  be  the  funeral  of  a  soul,  what  sadness  there 
has  been  over  it !  Over  its  spiritual  death  were  there  not  the  tears 
of  a  compassionate  Saviour  ?  And  have  not  the  true  people  of 
God,  in  all  ages,  mourned  over  those  around  them  whose  sinful 
courses  were  hastening  them  to  a  burial  in  the  bottomless  pit  ? 
Every  association  of  thought  with  the  funeral  of  a  soul  is  one  of 
sadness.  Tears,  more  bitter,  have  never  been  shed  in  this  world, 
than  those  of  pious  friends  over  those  dear  to  them,  who,  by  per- 
sistence in  sin,  were  wrapping  themselves  in  the  winding-sheet  of 
moral  death,  and  making  the  funeral  solemnities  at  the  Great  Day 
a  dreadful  certainty  ! 

5.  The  funeral  of  a  soul  suggests  itself  as  an  inevitable  consequence 
0/ its  spiritual  death.  It  is  so  with  the  body.  The  rites  we  per- 
form, in  connection  with  burial,  are  associated  with  the  unavoid- 
able necessity  of  committing  it  to  the  grave.  The  state  of  nat- 
ural death  is  at  war  with  the  health  and  life  of  survivors,  and  there 
must  be  a  separation  of  the  dead  from  us.  We  obey  this  law  as 
imperious  beyond  question  or  resistance. 

So  of  the  funeral  of  the  soul.  The  event  of  spiritual  death  hav- 
ing occurred,  there  is  no  alternative.  The  funeral  of  a  soul  im- 
plies its  removal  from  the  society  of  all  the  pure  and  the  good  in 
the  universe.     //  must  be  removed.     It  has  no  more  elements  of  har- 


136  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

mony  with  the  holy  and  happy  servants  of  God,  than  dead  bodies 
have  with  living  ones.  The  burial  of  dead  souls  is  an  act  of  holy 
justice  which  the  Infinite  owes  to  His  own  character,  and  owes  to 
the  happiness  of  those  holy  beings  whose  bliss  would  be  marred 
by  the  presence  of  those  so  utterly  discordant  in  character. 

II.  I  NOW  PASS  TO  THE  VARIOUS  CIRCUMSTANCES  ATTENDING  THE 
FUNERAL    OF  THE    SOUL. 

1.  Vast  numbers  of  souls  will  have  the  rites  of  burial  performed 
for  them  at  the  same  time.  All  that  finally  remain  dead  in  tres- 
passes and  sins  will  be  buried.  All  the  fallen  angels  belong  to 
that  number,  together  with  every  member  of  the  human  family 
who  has  lived  and  died  in  sin.  We  have  no  means  of  knowing 
the  number,  but  we  have  melancholy  reasons  for  believing  it  will 
be  very  great.  What  vast  multitudes,  in  all  generations  past,  have 
passed  into  the  grave  unreconciled  to  God  !  How  many  are  now 
living  in  that  growing  blindness  of  mind  and  hardness  of  heart, 
which  affords  sad  presage  that  they  will  perish  !  The  Great  Day 
will  be  the  funeral  day  of  innumerable  millions  ! 

2.  There  will  be  an  immense  assembly  convened  as  witnesses 
of  that  great  funeral.  At  the  rites  of  burial  in  this  world,  in  cases 
of  distinguished  persons,  or  when  the  mode  of  death  has  been  ex- 
traordinary, great  numbers  of  people  are  gathered.  But  the  great- 
est scene,  as  respects  numbers  present,  ever  witnessed  on  earth, 
is  as  a  drop  to  the  ocean,  compared  with  the  one  now  in  contem- 
plation. How  striking  the  language  of  one  competent  to  inform 
us  :  "  When  the  Son  of  Man  shall  come  in  His  glory  and  all  the 
holy  angels  with  Him. "  All  the  angels  !  What  a  congregation  ! 
An  apostle  speaks  of  the  angels  as  "an  innumerable  ^company. " 
And  we  read  of  different  ranks,  as  Archangels,  Thrones,  Domin- 
ions, Potentates,  and  Powers,  and  there  are  immense  numbers, 
doubtless,  in  each  rank.  And  we  cannot  but  rationally  suppose 
that  what  would  summon  these  orders  of  holy  beings  together 
would  summon  all  others,  if  indeed  these  orders  do  not  include 
the  whole  intelligent  universe.  We  cannot  therefore  doubt  that 
so  extraordinary  an  event  as  such  a  solemnity  will  draw  together 
the  whole  rational  creation  of  God. 

That,  in  addition  to  the  holy  angels,  all  the  fallen  angels  will  be 
present,  is  evident  from  two  facts  : 

a.   The  direct  assertion  of  Scripture:    "And  the  angels  that 


THE  FUNERAL    OF  THE  SOUL.  137 

kept  not  their  first  estate,  but  left  their  own  habitation,  He  hath 
reserved  in  everlasting  chains  under  darkness,  unto  the  judgment 
of  the  great  day. ' ' 

b.  The  funeral  rites  will  embrace  these  very  beings  ;  for  they 
are  "  reserved  "  now  in  reference  to  the  performance  of  that  very 
solemnity  over  them.      They  of  course  will  be  there. 

And,  in  respect  to  attendance  on  that  scene  from  our  world,  the 
context  expressly  affirms,  that  before  the  Judge  "  shall  be  gathered 
all  ?iations."  And  elsewhere  it  is  said,  "And  I  saw  the  dead, 
small  and  great,  stand  before  God  ;  and  the  dead  were  judged 
out  of  those  things  which  were  written  in  the  books  according  to 
their  works." 

If,  then,  all  the  angels  of  God,  and  all  nations,  and  all  the 
dead,  both  small  and  great,  are  to  be  present  at  the  great  funeral 
day  of  souls,  then  what  a  congregation,  what  a  funeral  solem- 
nity !  So  important  is  it,  that  God  summons  His  whole  rational 
universe  to  witness  it.  Surely  He  must  be  in  earnest  when  He 
appoints  and  prepares  such  a  solemnity.  What  an  event  that 
burial  !  Whose  soul  should  not  have  troubled  thoughts  concern- 
ing it  ! 

No  wonder  this  is  called  the  Great  Day  !  How  proper  to  call 
it  the  Great  Funeral  !  If  the  greatness  of  the  number  of  spec- 
tators can  impart  awful  grandeur  and  deep  solemnity,  this  fact  is 
not  wanting  here. 

3.  The  funeral  of  souls  will  be  attended  with  an  exhibition  of 
their  characters.  This  is  sometimes  done  at  the  burial  of  the 
body  in  this  world.  But  it  is  a  settled  part  of  that  great  solemnity 
now  under  discussion.  The  funeral  of  souls  is  an  event  of  such 
overwhelming  magnitude  and  importance — it  will  be  followed  by 
consequences  so  terrible — it  will  be  an  act  of  the  government  of 
God  so  awful  and  so  impressive  upon  the  whole  witnessing  uni- 
verse, that  the  Infinite  Ruler  designs  to  unfold  the  reasons  fully 
for  treating,  as  He  then  will,  fallen  angels  and  fallen  men.  He 
is  about  to  bury  them  in  the  bottomless  pit  !  But  he  will' show, 
as  a  reason,  that  they  are  dead  !  As  the  testimony  that  a  human 
body  was  dead  would  be  the  complete  vindication  of  its  burial,  so 
the  testimony  that  the  soul  is  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins,  will  be 
the  vindication  of  its  burial-  in  perdition  !  This  great  fact,  the 
spiritual  death  of  the  soul,  will  be  made  known,   for  its  moral 


138  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

character  shall  be  fully  disclosed.  "For  God  will  bring  every 
secret  thing  into  judgment."  And  such  will  be  the  disclosure  of 
iniquity,  that  "  every  mouth  shall  be  stopped  and  the  whole  world 
found  guilty  before  God."  Then  it  will  be  seen  that  such  was 
the  sinner's  enmity  against  His  character,  and  opposition  to  His 
government,  and  resistance  to  His  will,  as  to  proclaim  His  spirit- 
ual death,  and  therefore  the  glorious  justice  of  His  burial.  The 
Judge  will  not  declare,  "  These  shall  go  away  into  everlasting  pun- 
ishment," till  He  has  shown  to  the  witnessing  universe  that  the 
guilty  had  totally  disqualified  themselves  for  heaven,  and  that 
their  characters  had  fitted  them  for  no  other  place  than  the  re- 
gions of  woe.  So  startling  and  awful  will  be  the  display  of 
human  guilt,  that  there  can  be  but  one  sentiment  among  all  the 
holy  myriads  who  witness  the  scene,  expressed  in  the  Amen  that 
all  shall  give  as  the  funeral  sentence  shall  be  pronounced  ! 

4.  Consciousticss  on  the  part  of  the  condemned  of  the  awful 
nature  of  the  transaction  will  be  also  one  of  the  circumstances  at- 
tending the  funeral  of  souls. 

Burial  solemnities  in  this  world  are  for  the  inanimate  and  the 
unconscious.  Not  so  in  the  great  funeral  day  of  souls.  Those 
in  that  day  about  to  be  buried,  are  fully  aware  of  what  is  trans- 
piring about  them.  They  know  where  they  are,  and  all  the  terri- 
ble facts  of  their  position.  They  can  see  the  Infinite  Judge  as 
He  "  comes  in  the  clouds  of  heaven  with  power  and  great  glory." 
The  great  white  throne  is  in  sight,  and  all  the  holy  beings  who 
compose  that  vast  assembly.  The  opened  volume — the  language 
of  accusation — the  map  of  earthly  life — the  guilt  with  which  they 
are  defiled — the  frowning  face  of  Eternal  Justice — they  are  con- 
scious of  all  !  Not  one  of  the  awful  solemnities  of  the  occasion  is 
undiscerned,  and  not  one  but  has  a  response  of  the  soul's  emo- 
tions in  their  utmost  intensity. 

We  have  read  of  the  terrible  emotions  with  which  the  supposed 
dead  have  been  conscious  of  their  own  funeral  solemnities  ;  but 
here  is  that  consciousness  in  circumstances  infinitely  more  awful. 
Here  are  intelligent  minds,  in  all  the  sensitiveness  of  rational  ex- 
istence, beholding  their  own  funeral  rites,  and  conscious  of  the 
tremendous  fact  that  the  grave  is  nothing  less  than  the  bottom- 
less pit  ! 

5.  In  the  world  men  execute  the  funeral  solemnities  of  the  de- 


THE  FUNERAL    OF  THE  SOUL.  139 

parted,  but  in  the  funeral  of  souls  God  Himself  is  Ihc  Great  Exec- 
utor. It  is  His  voice  that  summons  death  and  hell  to  give  up 
their  dead.  It  is  He  that  charges  the  guilty  with  their  rebellion. 
It  is  His  voice  that  closes  the  scene  with  the  sentence,  "  Depart 
ye  cursed  into  everlasting  fire  I"  This  is  a  solemnity  so  momen- 
tous that  He  commits  it  to  no  created  hands — He  presides  Him- 
self. 

6.  One  other  circumstance  :  There  will  be  no  resurrection  of 
buried  souls  !  We  stand  by  the  grave  of  the  body  and  see  it  low- 
ered to  that  resting-place.  But  it  will  come  forth.  At  the  sound 
of  the  trump  of  God  it  will  arise. 

But  with  the  funeral  of  souls  there  can  be  no  such  associations. 
Here  is  a  burial  without  a  resurrection.  "  He  that  is  unjust  shall 
be  unjust  still."  "These  shall  go  away" — no  voice  will  ever 
recall  them.  No  being  will  stand  by  the  side  of  that  awful  sepul- 
chre, and  penetrating  its  horrible  midnight,  cry,  "  Come  forth  !" 
Every  spectator  of  that  solemnity  will  recognize  the  unchangeable 
decision  of  the  divine  government.  The  burial  of  a  guilty  soul 
in  perdition  is  a  final  transaction.  Just  as  the  funeral  solemnities 
of  the  body  in  this  world  suggest  and  imply  no  return  of  the 
departed,  so  does  the  funeral  of  the  soul  imply  no  return.  All  the 
spectators  will  retire  from  that  mighty  sepulchre  in  the  conviction 
that  the  buried  are  wrapped  in  the  shroud  of  everlasting  death  ! 

Now  let  us  take  home  to  the  deepest  ponderings  of  our  hearts 
two  facts  : 

a.  That  each  of  us  will  be  personally  present  at  the  great  funeral 
day  of  souls.  What  there  will  be  of  awful  grandeur,  and  terror, 
and  glory,  in  that  day,  will  be  before  our  eyes.  The  Judge,  the 
throne,  the  book  of  life,  the  angels,  holy  and  fallen,  men  re- 
deemed and  unredeemed — we  shall  see  all  this.  And  all  that  is  to 
be  heard  that  day,  we  shall  hear — the  voice  of  the  Infinite  Judge, 
the  anthems  of  angels  and  saints,  the  wailings  of  the  lost  ! 

b.  There  is  danger  that  then  shall  be  performed  the  funeral  so- 
lemnities of  our  own  souls.  Have  we  not  sinned  ?  And  is  not  the 
penalty  death  and  consequent  burial  ?  Do  we  say  we  have  es- 
caped it  by  "  repentance  toward  God,  and  faith  in  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ?"  These  are  elements  of  salvation;  but  how  many  have 
fallen  into  deadly  delusion  concerning  them — have  taken  up  with 
the  form  without  the  spirit ;  and,  though  confessors  of  Christ  and 


140  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

numbered  in  Zion,  are  in  as  great  danger  as  ever  of  final  ruin  ! 
By  the  very  side  of  that  dreadful  sepulchre,  and  on  the  funeral  day, 
many  will  hear — many  that  thought  all  was  well — will  hear  the 
startling  announcement  :  "I  never  knew  you  !"  Who  of  us  has 
not  occasion  to  search  his  heart,  to  inquire  after  the  grounds  of 
his  hope,  and  to  seek  with  all  possible  earnestness  to  escape  so 
terrible  a  disappointment  ! 

But  have  not  the  topics  of  this  discourse  met  the  eyes  of  some, 
in  the  consciousness  of  total  unfitness  for  eternity,  since  nothing 
effectual  has  yet  been  done  for  the  safety  of  the  soul  ?  Bear  with 
the  kindness  and  plainness  that  tells  you  every  sin  you  are  indulg- 
ing is  aiding  to  weave  the  winding-sheet  that  will  be  used  in  the 
Great  Funeral  Day  !  You  are  making  yourself  ready  for  the  so- 
lemnities of  an  everlasting  burial  !  Indulged  sin  is  bringing  your 
soul  into  such  a  moral  state  that  there  can  be  nothing  done  with 
it  but  to  bury  it.  • 

Think  too  of  this  :  you  do  not  walk  in  darkness  in  reference  to 
this  great  matter.  God  has  sent  you  word  about  the  great 
Funeral  Day.  He  has  drawn,  in  awful  brightness,  a  picture  of  it, 
and  made  to  stand  out  before  you  the  prominent  circumstances  of 
that  fearful  scene.  And  all  for  the  express  purpose  of  so  instruct- 
ing and  alarming  you,  as  to  prevent  its  becoming  your  own 
funeral  day. 

Oh,  mariner  on  the  sea  of  life,  the  beacon  blazes  before  you, 
clear  and  bright,  kindled  by  God's  own  hand.  Will  you  not  heed 
it  ?  Will  you  go  on  to  deal  so  unworthily  with  your  Infinite 
Benefactor  and  Judge,  that  He  can  do  nothing  with  your  guilty 
soul  but  to  call  the  universe  to  see  the  justice  of  its  being  buried 
in  perdition  ? 


OBITUARY  ADDRESSES. 


RESPONSIBILITIES    OF  THE  LIVING.* 

BY    C.    F.    DEEMS,    D.D.,    NEW  YORK. 

My  brethren,  it  would  seem  to  be  a  happy  thing  that  the  custom 
of  the  pastor  of  this  church  at  funerals  should  be  in  such  perfect 
accord  with  the  explicit  wishes  of  our  deceased  friend.  It  is 
almost  never  appropriate  to  speak  about  a  dead  man  at  his  obse- 
quies. No  man  would  desire  to  allude  to  any  of  his  human  frail- 
ties and  faults,  and  no  man  can  make  the  dead  man's  friends 
love  him  more  than  they  do  when  they  surround  his  remains. 
And  so  when  he  charged,  that  at  his  funeral  not  many  words  should 
be  said,  and  that  those  words  should  be  said  deliberately,  and  that 
there  should  be  no  attempt  to  set  forth  any  supposed  virtue  he 
might  possess,  the  request  was  in  accordance  with  my  own  feel- 
ings. And  it  is  all  the  better  because  an  occasion  is  to  come 
when  he  who  held  the  position  of  pastor  toward  him  will  have  an 
opportunity  to  state  deliberately  his  own  estimate  of  this  character 
and  this  career.  I  have  therefore  prepared  no  note  of  sermon,  no 
note  of  address.  I  have  come  to  talk,  not  about  the  dead,  but  to 
the  living.  I  have  come  to  seize  this  occasion,  when  you  are  all 
solemn,  when  you  are  all  arrested  by  the  fact  that  another  death — 
the  death  of  a  most  conspicuous  man — has  occurred,  to  bring 
you  for  a  few  moments  to  the  consideration  of  this  blessed  Chris- 
tian faith  of  ours  by  which  men  can  best  live.  I  have  not  come 
to  talk  to  you  about  death  ;  living  men  have  nothing  to  do  with 
dying.  I  am  not  come  to  exhort  you  to  prepare  for  death,  as  if 
such  preparation  could  be  made  apart  from  holy  living  ;  I  do  not 
believe  in  wasting  men's  lives  that  way.     You  and  I  have  no  time 

*At  the  funeral  of  Cornelius  Vanderbilt, 


1 42  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

so  to  prepare  for  death.  Our  lives  are  packed  and  crowded  too 
closely  with  responsibilities  to  be  wasting  one  minute  in  thinking 
of  dying.  That  is  not  the  Christian  faith,  and  yet  there  are  many 
men  who  seem  to  regard  religion  as  simply  an  arrangement  for  a 
happy  and  safe  passage  over  the  river  of  death  into  a  land  of  im- 
mortal life.  That  is  not  the  religion  set  forth  in  New  Testament 
Scripture.  Life  and  immortality  are  all  that  concern  us.  What 
have  you  to  do  with  dying  ?  God  takes  care  of  that.  What  had 
you  to  do  with  being  born  ?  God  took  care  of  that,  and  you 
have  no  more  to  do  with  preparing  for  dying  than  you  had  to  do 
with  preparing  for  being  born.  Those  are  the  two  inevitables  of 
human  existence,  and  God  Almighty  alone  manages  the  inevita- 
ble. But  this  thing  God  has  given  to  you  and  me  :  He  has 
given  us  bodies  that  are  to  be  the  temples  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
He  has  given  us  intellects  capable  of  indefinite  expansion.  He 
has  given  us  influence  over  our  fellow-men,  influence  so  that 
there  is  not  a  day  we  live  in  which  we  do  not  make  some  man  or 
some  woman  better  or  worse.  Men  talk  of  dying  ;  women  faint 
at  the  thought  of  dying.  Dying  !  It  is  but  an  instantaneous 
physical  experience — over  as  quickly  as  one  winks.  Dying  is 
solemn,  but  living  is  awful.  It  is  not  that  you  and  I  may  die  at 
five  o'clock  this  evening — it  is  not  that  which  ought  to  concern 
us ;  but  we  may  live  until  five  o'clock,  and  there  is  no  man  who 
lives  until  that  time  who  will  not  have  grown  into  a  greater  ripe- 
ness for  the  everlasting  life  or  have  commenced  that  decay  which 
goes  down  into  spiritual  rottenness. 

It  is  awful  to  live,  for  in  our  jokes,  in  our  witticisms,  in  our 
addresses  from  the  pulpit,  in  our  intercourse  in  mercantile  and 
domestic  life,  we  are  constantly  exerting  an  influence  that  is  to  go 
on  forever.  It  is  that  which  makes  living  such  an  awful  thing. 
Therefore,  Christianity  comes  to  men  for  living,  not  for  dying. 
The  conclusion  of  the  15th  chapter  of  Corinthians  is  one  of  the 
most  powerful  internal  proofs  of  the  divine  origin  of  the  Bible. 
If  a  philosopher  or  man  of  the  world  had  written  a  peroration  to 
what  seems  to  be  a  sublime  oration  on  life  and  immortality,  he 
would  never  have  written  that  with  which  the  apostle  concludes 
his  address.  He  says  this  mortal  must  put  on  immortality,  and 
this  corruptible  must  put  on  incorruption,  and  then  says, 
"  Therefore,  my  beloved  brethren,  be  ye  steadfast,  immovable." 


RESPONSIBILITIES  OF  THE  LIVING.  143 

That  is  not  the  conclusion  of  a  man  of  the  world,  or  a  mystic,  or 
a  philosopher. 

They  would  say  :  "  Call  in  the  children  from  their  play  ;  call 
down  the  women  from  their  toilets  ;  call  up  the  men  from  the 
markets.  If  this  mortal  must  put  on  immoitality,  why  should 
one  care  for  this  present  life  ?  Why  should  beauty  seek  adorn- 
ments, or  power  a  field  of  exercise  ?  One  would  send  the  world 
to  ths  cloister  ;  another  to  the  closet  ;  another  to  the  wilderness. 
As  the  generations  of  men  are  passing  so  rapidly  away,  why 
should  we  spend  our  brief  time  here  in  toil  ?"  They  would  say, 
"  What  is  the  use  of  living  ?  Strong  men  like  Cornelius  Vander- 
bilt  are  stricken  down.  What  is  the  use  of  climbing  ?  He  was  a 
mighty  climber  and  ascended  above  all  others,  yet,  on  the  sum- 
mit, he  was  stricken  down  in  such  a  way  that  if  he  had  piled 
$20,000,000  of  gold  upon  his  chamber  floor  his  physicians  could 
not  have  given  him  twenty  minutes  of  perfect  ease."  We  are  told 
to  be  steadfast,  to  be  immovable,  and  to  work.  Christianity  says, 
men  may  come  and  men  may  go,  and  whole  generations  be  swept 
off  by  war,  and  flood,  and  flames,  and  pestilence  ;  but  "  be  stead- 
fast." Steadfastness. is  an  element  of  Christianity,  if  exercised  in 
a  legitimate  and  honorable  business  ;  stand  right,  and  do  not  be 
swept  away  by  fanaticism  or  false  enthusiasm.  And  what  more  ? 
Work.  What  !  work  in  the  presence  of  impending  death  ?  Yes, 
work.  Work,  even  in  the  presence  of  impending  death,  and 
never  think  of  retiring.  I  have  seen  too  many  young  men  retire 
in  their  prime  and  die  before  their  full  ripening.  Now  let  me 
charge  you,  as  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  of  the  Son  of  God,  never 
retire.  Look  around  such  an  assemblage  as  this,  and  see  men 
who,  according  to  the  idea  of  laying  off  the  harness  before  one 
dies,  might  have  retired  twenty  years  ago,  and  they  are  still,  thank 
God,  examples  of  earnest  work. 

The  Holy  Spirit  says,  "  Be  steadfast  and  work  I"  If  you  arc 
founding  a  bank,  or  constructing  a  railway,  or  preparing  a  brief 
for  the  courts,  or  studying  the  case  of  a  patient,  or  ploughing 
your  field  into  furrows — whatever  be  your  employment — "  keep 
steadfast"  to  it  to  the  last  minute  of  life,  and  "  work."  Are  you 
driving  toward  a  goal,  don't  leap  from  your  chariot ;  don't  check 
your  horses.  Hold  your  reins  tightly  and  send  the  forces  of  life 
which  is  in  you  down  to  your  spirited  steeds,  and  drive  till  your 


144  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

chariot  leaps  over  the  line  at  the  goal.      Your  business  is  to  drive  ; 
there  will  be  those  at  the  barriers  to  arrest  the  steeds. 

The  Holy  Spirit  says,  "  Always  abounding  in  the  work  of  the 
Lord."  And  what  does  that  mean  ?  I  humbly  venture  to  think 
it  is  this,  that  if  I  have  done  anything  on  Sunday,  I  must  do 
more  on  Monday,  and  increase  the  amount  of  labor  day  by  day, 
up  to  the  last,  making  the  last  hour  of  life  the  fullest  of  thought, 
love,  and  action,  possible  to  our  perpetually  cultivated  powers. 
The  last  thoughts  of  his  (Mr.  Vanderbilt's)  life  were  business 
thoughts  conducted  through  his  own  mind,  religiously,  for  the 
honor  and  glory  of  God.  But  our  work  must  be  the  work  of  the 
Lord.  Whatsoever  our  beloved  and  revered  friend  did  from  self- 
ishness, whatsoever  he  did  from  vanity,  whatsoever  he  did  from 
pride,  or  from  worldliness,  might  have  grown  to  be  large  and  brill- 
iant things,  and  yet  each  one  of  them  as  it  strikes  his  tombstone 
will  burst  like  a  bubble.  What  of  him  remains  ?  Only  that 
which  he  did  "  in  the  Lord."      That  has  everlasting  permanence. 

I  think  it  will  be  a  soft  pillow  for  my  dying  hour  that  I  have 
one  remembrance — which  I  may  venture  to  state,  even  here — of 
our  beloved  friend.  One  day  he  took  my  hand  and  looked  me  in 
the  face ;  the  tears  started  to  his  eyes,  and  he  said,  ' '  Dear  Doc- 
tor, you  never  crowded  your  religion  on  me,  but  you  have  been 
faithful  to  me."  "Yes,"  I  said,  "Commodore,  I  have  held 
back  nothing  of  the  counsel  of  God  which  I  thought  needful  to 
say  to  you  for  your  salvation. "  And  shall  I  here,  in  the  presence 
of  this  people,  and  in  the  presence  of  his  precious  remains,  fail  to 
be  faithful  to  his  memory  and  to  you  ?  What  gave  him  his  com- 
fort at  last  ?  That  there  was  not  a  civilized  nation  on  the  face  of 
the  earth  that  did  not  know  his  name  ?  That  there  was  not  a  king, 
or  an  emperor,  or  other  ruler  of  men  upon  earth,  that  did  not 
know  his  name  ?  That  the  lustre  of  his  deeds  shone  like  sun- 
light among  the  nations  ?  What  gave  him  his  comfort  at  the 
last  ?  That  he  could  count  up  millions  to  be  left  to  his  children  ? 
No  !  It  was  this  :  that  Jesus  Christ,  by  the  grace  of  God,  had 
tasted  death  .for  him  ;  that  there  was  in  the  Godhead  not  simply 
his  Creator,  but  his  Redeemer,  and  that,  coming  as  a  little  child, 
he  could  lay  his  head  in  the  lap  of  Jesus  and  feel  that  he  had  a 
Saviour  there. 

Oh,  you  and  I  may  speculate  as  we  please  about  Christianity, 


RESPONSIBILITIES  OF  THE  LIVING.  145 

but  here  is  the  solemn  fact  of  Christianity,  and  here  is  the  solemn 
fact  that  when  men  do  come  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  with  simple 
trust,  having  repentance  toward  God,  they  find  peace  and  ever- 
lasting rest.  There  is  no  other  name  given  among  men  whereby 
we  can  be  saved.  God  gave  His  only  begotten  Son,  that  whoso 
believeth  in  Him  should  have  everlasting  life.  The  blood  of 
Jesus  Christ,  His  Son,  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin. 

This  is  the  gospel  of  Christianity  —  the  gospel  of  salvation 
through  Jesus  Christ.  To  those  who  have  heard  nothing  about 
the  Redeemer  I  have  nothing  to  say  ;  but  you  who  have  listened 
to  the  Gospel  of  Jesus,  I  charge  as  you  shall  come  to  the  judg- 
ment-seat of  Christ,  that  you  be  prepared  to  answer  this  question  : 
What  did  you  do  with  Jesus  ?  What  have  you  done  with  all  that 
came  to  you  through  His  death  ?  For  remember,  that  you  are 
not  to  be  judged  as  cultivated  pagans,  but  by  the  Gospel  of  Jesus 
you  shall  be  judged. 

You  may  have  lived  as  though  you  had  nothing  to  do  with 
Jesus,  saying,  that  "  do  as  ye  would  be  done  by"  is  enough  relig- 
ion for  you.  Cornelius  Vanderbilt  once  saw  all  in  that,  but  he- 
lived  long  enough  to  consider  that  precept  in  the  light  of  this 
question  which  I  now  urge  upon  you  :  Have  you  done  by  Jesus 
as  you  would  have  Him  do  by  you,  if  your  places  were  changed  ? 
If  you  have  millions,  what  are  they  worth  compared  with  the 
wealth  of  Jesus  before  the  world  began  ?  If  each  of  you  were  a 
crowned  monarch  I  would  ask  you,  What  is  your  bauble  compared 
to  the  eternal  crown  of  glory  ?  Yet  He  laid  them  all  down  to 
save  you.  Suppose  you  were  to  empty  yourself  of  all  glory  and 
take  on  you  the  form  of  a  servant,  and  die  for  Jesus  ;  and  then 
suppose  He  was  so  engrossed  in  selfish  pursuits,  or  so  mad  with 
the  greed  of  gain,  that  He  cared  nothing  for  your  death,  what 
would  you  think  of  Jesus  ?  If  you  reject  or  neglect  this  great  sal- 
vation, and  will  not  be  saved  in  God's  way,  He  will  judge  you  bv 
your  own  rule,  and  you  must  answer  at  the  judgment  of  the  great 
day  this  question,  Did  you  do  unto  Jesus  what  you  would  have 
Him  do  for  you  ? 

There  were  two  things  our  beloved  friend  lacked.  One  was  the 
advantages  of  early  scholastic  culture  ;  another  was  intimate  relig- 
ious associations  through  his  middle  life  and  the  main  part  of  his 
career  ;  and  those  two  wants  of  his  life,  as  he  has  solemnly  said  to 


146  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

me,  were  the  only  great  regrets  he  had.  But  remember,  that  while 
Cornelius  Vanderbilt  had  not  the  advantages  of  the  schools,  that 
great  lack  was  compensated  for  in  a  large  measure  by  the  extraor- 
dinary intellectual  endowments  with  which  God  had  gifted  him. 
And  then,  and  above  all,  remember  this,  that  what  saved  him  was 
the  fact  that  never  in  any  part  of  his  life  did  he  for  one  single 
instant  doubt  that  this  sacred  book  was  the  Word  of  God  and  the 
rule  of  faith  and  practice.  That  was  his  sheet-anchor,  and  his 
love  for  his  mother  was  his  sheet-cable.  I  must  now  say  what  he 
charged  me  to  say,  if  ever  I  spoke  of  him  in  public  :  "  Say  to  all 
men  that  you  did  not  have  the  slightest  influence  in  the  world  in 
persuading  me  to  believe  in  the  Bible  ;  that  you  could  not,  nor 
all  the  angels,  nor  ministers,  for  I  have  never  had  a  minute  when 
I  did  not  believe  it  was  the  Word  of  God,  whether  I  kept  it  or 
not."  Have  you  that  faith  ?  If  he  had  gone  through  life  with- 
out that  faith  and  come  to  this  great  battle,  this  eight  months' 
campaign,  fighting  for  life,  fighting  on  the  outskirts,  fighting  in 
the  intrenchments,  fighting  in  the  citadel  to  the  last — if  he  had 
come  without  that  wonderful  faith  in  the  Word  of  God,  who  could 
have  helped  him  ?  Let  us  not  attach  undue  value  to  the  things 
of  this  world,  but  let  us  not  underrate  ourselves.  That  man  lying 
there  never  owned  one  single  dime.  He  never  possessed  one 
single  foot  of  ground  in  his  own  right.  He  was  bound  to  hold 
these  things  as  a  steward  of  God.  That  is  the  state  of  the  case 
with  us,  and  we  must  give  an  account  at  the  last,  as  he  has  gone 
to  render  his  account  of  his  stewardship,  to  the  only  One  who  has 
a  right  to  judge  him,  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 

My  friends,  I  might  have  made  these  remarks  briefer  ;  but 
nature  is  nature  ;  and  I  am  not — God  knows  I  am  not — discharg- 
ing in  a  perfunctory  manner  the  duties  of  a  pastor  toward  a  parish- 
ioner. I  have  made  no  preparation  for  this  occasion,  because  I 
knew  that  at  the  moment  when  I  was  to  speak  over  his  remains  I 
might  not  be  able  to  control  my  feelings,  and  I  have  been  talking 
as  far  away  from  him  as  I  could  upon  these  general  topics.  I  felt, 
if  I  spoke  of  him  at  all,  I  should  not  be  able  to  speak  of  him  as 
befitted  the  love  I  bore  him.  And  oh,  how  he  was  loved  !  Money 
can  never  buy  love — you  know  it  cannot.  We  never  shed  tears 
over  a  rich  man  just  because  he  is  a  rich  man.  But  look  at  these 
men  in  these  galleries  that  have  wrought  with  him,  and  what  a 


LIFE'S  REVIEW.  147 


body-guard  of  affection  do  they  not  present  ?  Better  than  ten 
thousand  Swiss  with  halberds,  hired  for  a  funeral,  is  one  simple, 
manly  soul,  that  looks  lovingly  upon  the  remains  of  his  friend. 

If  one  grain  of  love  is  worth  ten  thousand  tons  of  admiration, 
then  Cornelius  Vanderbilt  died  rich.  This  I  say  as  one  who, 
with  the  solicitude  of  a  pastor  and  a  friend,  watched  all  his  spirit- 
ual motions  through  the  last  year  of  his  life,  and  say  it  as  if  he 
were  alive,  and  that  lid  were  open,  and  he  had  those  eagle  eyes 
turned  on  me  ;  I  will  say  I  believe  that  this  man,  at  the  last,  had 
true  repentance  toward  God — had  simple,  childlike  faith  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  as  his  personal  and  divine  Saviour,  and  did 
yield  himself  to  the  operations  of  the  Holy  Ghost  ;  and  that, 
having  thus  yielded,  and  in  such  repentance,  in  such  faith,  and  in 
such  submission  died,  we  may  confidently  trust  that  He  who  is 
able  to  save  to  the  uttermost  did  fulfil  His  promises  to  our  be- 
loved friend,  and  that  he  is  numbered  with  the  saints  in  glory 
everlasting. 


LIFE'S    REVIEW. 


BY  THEODOR    CHRISTLIEB,    D.  D. ,    UNIVERSITY  OF    BONN. 
[From  the   German.] 

I.     What  am  I  gathering  ? 

Let  me  ask  childhood,  so  often  overtaken  by  death,  what  hast 
thou  gathered  into  thy  short  span  of  existence  ?  Nothing  but  play 
and  amusement ;  or  also  loving  obedience  to  parents  ?  Have  thy 
lips  learned  the  sweet  accents  of  prayer,  and  is  there  within  thee 
a  growing  attachment  to  Him  who  so  gently  suffered  the  little 
children  to  come  unto  Him  and  promised  them  "  the  kingdom  of 
heaven"  ? 

And  thou,  young  man  or  maiden,  what  would  pass  before  thine 
eye  as  the  sum  of  thy  life  ?  If  the  Lord  should  break  the  fresh 
and  blooming  shell  of  thy  life  and  lay  open  the  inner  kernel  of  thy 
being,  what  would  come  to  view  ?  What  has  accumulated  within 
the  shrine  of  thy  heart  ?  Hopes  and  wishes,  acquirements  and 
skill  for  this  life  only,  an  insane  thirst  simply  to  please  men  and 
attain  their  approbation  ?     Or,  with  all  thy  gladsome  ardor  and 


148  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

youthful  enthusiasm,  hast  thou  also  cultivated  a  serious  aspect  of 
life,  which  has  early  taught  thee  to  keep  in  view  its  exalted 
destiny,  and  with  spiritual  weapons  to  contend  "  against  youthful 
lusts  which  war  against  the  soul  "  ?  Hast  thou,  through  the 
humility  of  an  earnest  faith,  conquered  the  vanity  of  knowledge 
and  the  idolatry  of  man-worship  ?  Or  art  thou  still  in  Egypt — 
still  hankering  after  the  flesh-pots  cf  this  world  ?  Have  ye 
"  escaped  the  corruption  that  is  in  the  world  through  lust"  ?  As 
ye  cast  a  glance  upon  the  recent  past,  know  ye  something  of  fidel- 
ity in  little  things  ?  If  ye  take  your  measurement  according  to 
Christ's  word,  "  He  that  is  faithful  in  that  which  is  least  is  faithful 
also  in  much,"  are  ye  not  probably  lacking  in  both?  Do  not 
countless  neglects  already  accuse  your  short  lives  ?  How  many 
are  ready  to  strike  their  sails  before  serious  obstacles  !  Whatever 
glides  not  along  easily  and  smoothly,  but  requires  earnest  thought 
and  persevering  application,  is  by  multitudes  at  once  dismissed. 
Is  not  this  also  unfaithfulness  and  culpable  weakness  ? 

And  we,  of  riper  years  and  greater  age,  how  is  it  with  us  ? 
Our  lives  are  indeed  full  of  God's  numberless  mercies  and  bless- 
ings, yet  "  the  cup  of  thanksgiving  is  mingled  with  saddening 
tears."  For  how  many  temptations,  dangers,  and  storms  of  life 
have  left  their  stings  behind  !  How  many  divine  commands  have 
either  been  wholly  neglected  or  but  partially  executed,  our  con- 
duct being  determined  more  by  a  regard  for  our  own  situation 
than  the  honor  and  glory  of  God  !  How  many  a  dissension, 
even  with  our  nearest  kindred,  casts  its  gloomy  shadow  over  our 
lives  !  How  often  has  our  deference  to  others'  views  and  wishes 
betrayed  us  into  a  wrong  course  or  made  others  to  sin  !  When 
confronted  with  a  clamorous  tumult,  have  we  bravely  stemmed  the 
storm,  or  like  Aaron  suffered  ourselves  to  be  swept  along  with  the 
stream  ?  Ah  !  how  many  humbling  recollections  of  sins  like  or 
even  worse  than  Aaron's  have  we  gathered  !  He  saw  only  the 
morning's  dawn  of  God's  kingdom  ;  we  live  in  the  full  blaze  of 
its  noonday  sun.  Has  now  the  more  glorious  revelation  of  God 
in  Christ  Jesus  influenced  us  so  as  to  walk  always  in  its  light,  to 
devote  our  energies  to  its  extension,  and,  prompted  by  the  love  of 
Christ  and  the  will  of  God,  so  to  serve  our  own  generation 
that  when  the  summons  comes  :  "  Thou  shalt  be  gathered  unto 
thy  people  and  die,"  we.can  hear  that  summons  without  alarm  ? 


LIFE'S  REVIEW.  149 


Or  have  our  aims  and  wishes,  our  words  and  deeds,  been  only  from 
and  for  beneath,  so  that  when  the  final  reckoning  comes  we  could 
wish  that  most  of  them  had  never  been  or  were  greatly  different  ? 
Will  what  you  have  gathered  be  a  memorial  to  your  honor  or  to 
your  everlasting  disgrace  ?  Have  you  with  the  Lord  gathered,  or 
without  Him  only  scattered  ? 

Look  once  more  upon  Aaron.  Moses  shall  lead  him  and  his 
son  Eleazar  to  Mount  Hor  :  "  And  strip  Aaron  of  his  garments 
and  put  them  upon  Eleazar  his  son,  and  Aaron  shall  be  gathered 
unto  his  people  and  shall  die  there.  And  Moses  did  as  the  Lord 
commanded  ;  and  they  went  up  into  Mount  Hor  in  the  sight  of 
all  the  congregation.  And  Moses  stripped  Aaron  of  his  garments 
and  put  them  upon  Eleazar  his  son."  Behold  this  little  group  in 
the  awe-inspiiing  stillness  on  the  mountain's  summit.  For  miles 
no  soul  is  near  ;  only  the  eye  of  God  is  upon  them.  Moses,  the 
younger,  but,  as  God's  prophet,  now  more  honorable  brother, 
begins  to  take  the  mitre  from  the  elder  brother's  brow,  the  breast- 
plate from  his  bosom,  the  ephod  from  his  shoulders,  and  the  white 
surplice  from  his  body,  and  puts  them  all  on  Eleazar.  Increas- 
ingly poorer  and  humbler  becomes  the  dying  man,  until  he  stands 
there  at  last,  externally,  like  every  other  mortal.  How  death 
levels  all  earthly  distinctions  and  makes  high  and  low  alike  ! 

And  when,  dear  hearer,  thou  shalt  at  last  arrive  at  eternity's 
portals,  and  there  perceive  that  before  the  holy  Judge  nothing 
merely  human  shall  stand  which  our  only  Mediator  has  not  conse- 
crated, cleansed,  and  sanctified  by  His  Spirit,  then  will  the  mitre 
of  wisdom  drop  from  thy  brow,  the  honors  of  the  world  and  the 
frontlets  of  genius  sink  into  the  dust  as  nothing  worth,  if  tainted 
with  selfishness  or  corroded  with  pride  ;  then  will  the  glittering 
breastplate  of  human  ambition  with  which  the  carnal  heart  girded 
itself  for  so  many  years  be  untied,  and  its  delusive  dreams,  so 
fondly  cherished,  vanish  into  air  ;  then  will  the  surplice  of  good 
works,  upon  which  the  eye  so  confidently  lingered,  be  stripped 
'  off,  if  wrought  only  for  the  pleasement  of  men  and  not  from  love 
to  the  Master.  Yea,  then  will  every  fruit  of  life  sink  irrecoverably 
out  of  sight  whose  root  is  not  found  in  genuine  faith  "  and  love 
unfeigned"  as  the  product  of  the  Holy  Ghost  ;  then  will  be  made 
manifest  to  many  a  one  who  had  hoped  to  have  gathered  a  great 
deal,  that  "  Whosoever  gathereth  not  with  Me  scattereth  abroad." 


ISO  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

Oh,  poor  soul  that  then  finds  nothing  else  at  life's  final  revision 
but  what  must  remain  behind — and  accuse  it  ! 

Thus,  then,  our  first  question,  What  am  I  gathering  j3  natu- 
rally leads  to — 

2.     What  should  I  have  gathered  when  life  s  final  revision  comes  p 

This  too  we  learn  from  the  dying  priest's  history  on  Hor's 
summit.  Now,  what  God  demanded  of  him  and  of  all  His 
people  was  uncompromising  fidelity  to  his  covenant  with  the  Almighty. 
This  one  point  includes  all  others.  And  despite  the  many  weak- 
nesses and  sins  Aaron  had  always,  through  the  divine  mercies  and 
discipline,  returned  to  the  Lord,  and  had  yielded  such  fruits  that 
heaven's  benedictions  could  abidingly  rest  on  them.  He  had 
never  refused  to  accompany  Moses  to  the  vacillating  Pharaoh  ; 
had  with  prayer  upheld  his  brother's  hand  in  the  battle  with  the 
Amalekites  ;  had  retained  and  executed  the  office  into  which 
God's  free  choice  had  placed  him  and  his  house  unto  the  end  ; 
and  when,  after  the  destruction  of  Korah  and  his  band,  the  people 
murmured  against  him  and  Moses,  and  the  plague  broke  out 
among  them  and  thousands  had  already  perished,  then  Aaron,  like 
a  true  priest,  with  the  atoning  censer  in  hand,  flung  himself  into 
the  breach  and  nobly  used  his  prerogatives  as  High  Priest  in  his 
intercessory  prayers  for  the  rebellious  people,  standing  like  a 
breastwork  of  protection  "  between  the  living  and  the  dead  until 
the  plague  was  stayed."  Yes,  his  life  contained  imperishable 
fruits— deeds  of  faith,  of  love,  and  of  trust  in  God. 

He  can,  therefore,  at  life's  final  review  gather  from  it  not  only 
the  memorials  of  God's  fidelity  and  of  his  own  failings,  but  that 
also  which,  through  God's  grace  and  discipline,  he  has  become  ; 
gather  the  fruits  of  his  faith,  his  love,  his  hope  and  ,his  trust  in 
God.  And  leaning  on  the  divine  promises — perhaps  his  mind's 
eye  glancing  upward  to  that  greater  High  Priest  who  should  atone 
for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world,  and  whose  office  his  own  had  but 
prefigured — he  can  close  his  eyes  in  peace.  Upward,  not  downward, 
does  he  go  in  his  death.  Though  privileged  to  see  the  promised 
land  only  at  a  distance,  his  end  was  assuredly  in  peace  and  recon- 
ciliation with  God — albeit  that  his  life-history  had  been  a  stormy 
one,  full  of  toils,  sufferings,  and  chastisements.  Calmly  submis- 
sive to  God's  holy  but  most  gracious  decree,  deprived  of  his  out- 
ward priestly  robes,  yet  retaining  the  inward  priestly  adornments 


LIFE'S  REVIEW.  151 


of  peace  and  hope,  of  trust  and  humble  resignation  to  the  divine 
will — thus  is  he  gathered  to  his  fathers,  and  permitted,  without  a 
protracted  struggle,  to  pass  away.  He  had  not  lived  in  vain  ; 
following  the  wise  guidance  of  God  he  had  brought  forth  fruit,  and 
therefore  his  name  was  held  in  blessed  remembrance  among  the 
people.  "  And  Aaron  died  there  in  the  top  of  the  mount  :  and 
Moses  and  Eleazar  came  down  from  the  mount.  And  when  all 
the  congregation  saw  that  Aaron  was  dead,  they  mourned  for  him 
thirty  days,  even  all  the  house  of  Israel." 

Here,  then,  you  too  may  learn  what  you  ought  to  gather  for 
life's  final  revision.  Before  all  else,  certainly  that  one  and  only  sup- 
port and  comfort  in  life  and  death,  which  the  first  answer  of  a  well- 
known  catechism  holds  up  to  us,  "  That  with  body  and  soul  .  .  . 
we  should  not  be  our  own,  but  belong  to  our  faithful  Saviour, 
Jesus  Christ."  That  is  the  sure  foundation,  the  high  rock  of  faith 
on  which  we  ought  to  stand  when  life  draws  to  its  close.  There 
should  we  be  clothed  with  the  priestly  garments  of  salvation,  which 
will  forever  cover  our  nakedness,  even  with  the  righteousness  of 
that  High  Priest  who  changes  no  more,  since  "  by  one  offering 
He  hath  perfected  forever  them  that  are  sanctified." 

And  with  this  divine  power — this  new  life-power  of  faith,  mercy, 
and  peace  in  God — you  ought  to  labor  and  gather  fruit  from 
works  wrought  in  God,  which  aid,  amid  the  various  positions  and 
vocations,  in  the  upbuilding  of  the  future  of  God's  people  who, 
by  word  and  deed,  prayer  and  example,  co-operate  in  the  develop- 
ment of  Christ's  kingdom  ;  and  which  works,  therefore,  follow 
those  who  die  in  the  Lord,  in  oider  that  at  the  judgment  day  they 
may  be  revealed  to  the  honor  of  God  and  His  children. 

You  ought  to  gather  fruits,  too,  from  all  the  experiences  of  your 
lives,  whether  elevating  or  depressing,  and  hold  them  fast  in  your 
last  hour  with  that  calm  submission  to  God  which  grows  out  of  a 
humble  trust  in  the  Almighty  and  a  careful  observance  of  all  the 
leadings  and  changes  of  your  lives,  since,  as  disciplinary  and 
merciful,  they  are  always  designed  to  confirm  this  one  great  truth, 
"  God  doeth  all  things  well." 

And,  finally,  you  ought  to  gather  from  all  these  things  a  sure 
hope,  a  happy  prospect  of  your  future  inheritance,  of  reunion  with 
all  the  fathers  and  brethren  in  Christ ;  of  those  "  green  pastures" 
where  the  Chief  Shepherd  leads  His  flock,  where  there  is  neither  a 


152  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

Red  Sea  nor  a  Dead  Sea,  but  "  a  sea  clear  as  crystal;"  where 
flows  the  river  of  life,  on  whose  margin  grow  the  trees  of  life  ; 
where  beckon  you,  not  the  black  surface  of  the  wilderness,  but  the 
lightsome  plains  of  immortality  ;  not  the  burning  desert,  but  the 
bowers  of  Eden  ;  not  the  bleak  and  barren  wastes  of  Paran,  but 
the  fields  of  living  green  of  Paradise.  You  ought  to  be  able  to 
say,  "  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth  ;"  "I  have  fought  a  good 
fight"— have  gathered  for  the  hour  of  my  departure  mercy  and 
peace,  faith  and  hope;  "henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me  a 
crown  of  righteousness." 

Oh,  dear  brethren,  whoever  of  you  desires  at  last  to  depart  in 
peace,  and  calmly  to  review  not  only  this  or  that  division  of  con- 
cluded labor,  but  his  whole  life,  let  him  diligently  and  frequently 
institute  such  reckoning  days,  and  work  while  it  is  day,  sowing 
and  gathering  in  faith  what  in  that  solemn  hour  he  will  wish  that 
he  could  gather.  We  all,  as  it  were,  step  by  step,  with  the  seeds 
of  death  in  our  bosom,  ascend  the  mountain  for  life's  last  revi- 
sion— some  farther  advanced,  others  farther  back.  Life' s  way  leads 
to  death's  summit.  The  higher  the  ascent,  the  farther  the  outlook. 
But  not  all  obtain  the  blessed  view,  like  Moses  on  Mount  Nebo, 
of  the  promised  land.  If  we  have  gathered  nothing  abiding, 
nothing  satisfying,  then  will  thick  mist,  or  even  black  thunder- 
clouds, veil  our  goal.  If,  however,  on  the  other  hand,  we  have 
gathered  with  Christ,  then  "at  evening  time  it  shall  be  light" 
for  us. 

Blessed  is  that  soul  at  whose  review  of  life  faith  issues  into 
vision,  which  suffers  itself  willingly  to  be  stripped  of  all  earthly 
things,  since  it  desires  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ  and  be 
gathered  to  the  people  of  the  Lord,  and  which  can  say  on  the 
confines  of  the  wilderness  and  Canaan,  of  life  and  death,  "  I  am 
both  thy  pilgrim  and  thy  citizen." 


DEATH   OF  AN  ONLY  DAUGHTER.  153 

DEATH    OF   AN    ONLY    DAUGHTER.* 

BY    WILLIAM  M.    TAYLOR,    D.D. ,     NEW    YORK. 

Death  always  comes  veiled  in  mystery  and  draped  in  sadness, 
but  in  the  dispensation  which  has  gathered  us  together  here  this 
afternoon,  there  are  some  elements  of  peculiar  sorrow.  A  brief, 
bright  earthly  life,  radiant  while  it  lasted  with  sunshine  and  joy 
for  all  around,  and  to  human  view  full  of  promise  for  the  future, 
has  come  to  a  close.  The  daughter,  after  having  reached  that 
stage  where  the  filial  has  been  merged,  if  I  should  not  rather  say 
exalted,  into  the  sisterly,  has  been  removed  from  the  parent's  em- 
brace, and  a  glory  and  gladness  have  gone  out  of  the  home. 
Scripture  has  emphasized  the  bitterness  of  the  sorrow  that  is  caused 
by  the  death  of  an  only  son  ;  but  that  has  its  parallel  at  least,  if 
not  its  superior,  in  the  grief  that  is  occasioned  by  the  removal  of 
an  only  daughter.  I  may  not  dwell  on  all  that  this  loved  one 
was  to  all  in  the  household  to  which  she  belonged,  lest  in  my 
well-meant  effort  to  administer  consolation,  I  should  after  all  do 
little  more  than  aggravate  the  grief  which  I  desire  to  soothe.  But 
as  in  this  case,  the  magnitude  of  the  loss  is  also,  blessed  be  God 
for  it !  the  measure  of  the  consolation,  it  is  meet  that  I  should  say 
a  word  or  two  on  her  character  and  disposition.  Over  and  above 
the  natural  buoyancy  of  youth,  there  was  in  her  the  bright  sparkle 
and  effervescence  of  a  mind  which  was  singularly  quick  in  its  ap- 
prehension, and  peculiarly  active  and  alert  in  its  movements. 
The  constitutional  animation  of  her  temperament  was  modified 
and  subdued  in  her  by  the  discipline  of  affliction.  For  years  she 
had  been  very  much  of  an  invalid,  but  that,  while  it  did  not  mar 
her  cheerfulness,  gave  it  only  a  finer  and  more  sensitive  quality, 
so  that,  mature  beyond  her  years,  she  had  been  fitted  by  her 
affliction  for  companionship  with  those  who  were  a  long  way  her 
seniors.  Hence  it  is  that  to-day  her  loss  is  mourned  with  equal 
intensity  by  her  youthful  schoolfellows  to  whom  she  was  allied  by 
that  buoyancy  to  which  I  have  referred,  and  by  her  elder  friends 
who  found  in  her  a  ripeness  of  experience  that  was  unusual  in  one 

*  At  the  funeral  of  the  only  daughter  of  Dr.  Ormiston. 


154  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

of  her  tender  age.  As  was  to  be  expected,  considering'  the  house- 
hold in  which  she  was  reared,  she  came  early  under  the  influence 
of  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  and  connected  herself  publicly  with  the 
membership  of  the  Church.  Her  piety,  however,  was  more 
pervasive  in  its  influence  over  all  her  conduct,  than  given  to  ex- 
press itself  in  any  one  form.  She  did  not  say  much  of  it  in  words, 
but  it  spoke  through  her  cheerfulness,  her  purity,  her  truthfulness, 
and  above  all,  through  that  affection  which  embraced  all  who 
loved  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  In  her  last  illness  she  spoke  but 
little  directly  of  her  own  religious  experience.  At  first  she  was 
slightly  perplexed  with  the  question,  why  she  should  have  been  so 
greatly  afflicted,  but  having  received  a  kind  and  wise  answer  from 
her  father,  she  put  the  difficulty  from  her  and  resigned  herself  en- 
tirely to  the  will  of  God.  Two  sayings  of  hers  in  the  closing  days 
of  her  illness  will  be  ever  treasured  by  those  who  were  dearest  to 
her,  and  I  mention  them  here  as  indicative  of  the  current  of  her 
unspoken  thoughts  throughout  her  sickness.  After  her  father  had 
prayed  with  her,  she  asked,  "  Papa,  why  is  it  that  we  get  so  much 
nearer  to  God  when  we  are  in  affliction  ?  Is  He  not  equally  ac- 
cessible to  us  at  all  times  ?' '  A  question  which  shows  how  the 
cross  that  she  was  called  to  bear  was  raising  her  into  closer  fellow- 
ship with  her  Lord.  Asking  again  from  what  text  her  father  had 
preached  on  the  afternoon  of  last  Lord' s  day,  she  received  for  her 
answer,  "  If  I  may  but  touch  His  garment  I  shall  be  whole," 
whereupon  she  replied,  "  I  can  touch  His  garment  now,"  and  it 
is  our  consolation  to  know  that  now  she  is  made  whole.  So  we 
cannot  weep  for  her.  Our  sorrow  is  for  ourselves,  and  the  day  is 
coming  when  by  happy  reunion  in  the  presence  of  the  Lord  our 
sorrow  shall  be  turned  into  joy. 

It  is  not  unusual  to  speak  and  think  of  the  death  of  a  maiden 
like  this  as  premature,  and  of  the  life  as  unfinished.  In  our 
cemeteries  we  often  see  a  broken  shaft  over  a  young  person's 
grave,  as  an  emblem  of  this  view  of  the  case,  and  I  will  not  deny 
that  there  is  both  poetry  and  pathos  in  the  symbol.  But  after  all, 
is  not  every  human  life  from  one  point  of  view  unfinished  ? 
Which  of  the  sons  of  men  has  done  all  that  he  designed  to  do  in 
life  ?  The  historian  is  called  away,  leaving  his  great  work  a  frag- 
ment ;  the  novelist  is  stricken  down,  leaving  his  tale  half  told  ; 
the  artist  is  removed,  while   yet   the    work  on  which  he  is  en- 


DEATH  OF  AN  ONLY  DAUGHTER.  155 

gaged  is  only  begun.  There  never  was  a  finished  life  upon  this 
earth,  excepting  one,  and  that  was  the  life  of  One  who  was  more 
than  man — even  Jesus  Christ  the  Incarnate  God.  We  are  stopped 
in  our  work,  and  at  the  best  it  is  very  far  from  finished  work,  but 
He  fully  filled  in  the  ideal  which  He  designed.  In  this  aspect, 
therefore,  the  death  of  a  young  person  does  not  materially  differ 
from  that  of  another  ;  and  a  broken  pillar  may  fitly  symbolize  even 
the  longest  life  of  mere  man  upon  the  earth. 

But  in  the  case  of  the  Christian,  is  any  life  unfinished  ?  We 
may  not  forget  here  that  our  present  existence  is  the  root  from 
which  our  immortality  will  spring,  and  that  what  seems  unfinished 
here  will  be  perfected  above.  Wandering  once  up  the  side  of  a 
mountain  in  my  native  land,  I  came  in  sight  of  a  monument  in 
the  shape  of  a  tall  pillar,  which  crowned  its  summit.  I  resolved 
to  go  and  examine  it,  but  as  I  ascended,  the  mist  came  down  ; 
and  when  I  came  to  the  base  of  the  shaft,  I  could  read  the  in- 
scription on  the  pediment,  but  the  top  was  concealed  from  me  in 
the  cloud.  So  I  think  it  is  in  a  case  like  this.  The  pillar  is  not 
broken  ;  but  its  finished  capital  is  concealed  from  our  eyes  by  the 
misty  veil  that  hides  the  future  from  the  present,  and  when  that  is 
removed  we  shall  see  not  only  that  the  shaft  is  unbroken,  but  that 
the  symmetry  and  beauty  of  the  top  are  in  perfect  keeping  with  its 
early  earthly  foundation. 

I  am  aware,  indeed,  that  so  far  as  we  have  any  knowledge  of 
heaven,  we  may  say  that  it  is  certain  that  there  shall  not  be  there 
the  same  relationships  and  occupations  we  have  here  ;  but  there  is 
no  doubt  that  there  shall  be  need  there  for  the  qualities  of  charac- 
ter which  were  developed  by  our  training  and  experience  here, 
and  we  shall  then  understand,  as  we  cannot  here,  not  only  why 
we  were  each  brought,  through  his  own  personal  history,  but  also 
why  our  dear  ones  were  taken  from  us  at  the  time  they  were. 
The  Lord  had  need  of  them  just  then,  and  their  removal  was 
necessary  not  only  to  the  symmetry  but  to  the  finish  of  their  im- 
mortal excellence. 

Sometimes,  again,  when  we  are  brought  face  to  face  with  a  dis- 
pensation like  this,  we  are  disturbed  by  the  mystery  of  the  ques- 
tion, why  there  was  so  much  promise  in  a  young  life  that  came, 
to  human  view,  to  no  maturity.  We  cannot  answer  that  question 
fully,  but  we  can   point  to  a  parallel  mystery  in  which   the  con- 


156  PULPIT  AND   GRAVE. 

trast  might  have  seemed  yet  greater,  and  by  the  contemplation  of 
which  we  may  be  consoled.  We  cannot  forget  here  that  our  Sav- 
iour Himself  died  while  yet  He  was  but  a  young  man.  For  four 
thousand  years,  from  the  date  of  the  primal  prophecy,  prepara- 
tions were  being  made  for  His  appearance.  The  whole  Mosaic 
system  and  the  entire  history  of  the  Jews  was  in  order  to  His 
manifestation.  One  would  have  thought,  therefore,  that  when  He 
came  His  life  would  have  been  greatly  prolonged.  But  instead, 
He  died  at  the  age  of  thirty-three,  after  little  more  than  three 
years  of  public  life.  What  a  poor  outcome  for  such  preparations  ! 
one  might  say,  speaking  after  the  manner  of  men  ;  but  now,  re- 
calling His  resurrection  and  ascension — behold  what  that  life  has 
done  for  humanity,  and  with  the  history  of  the  past  eighteen  cen- 
turies behind  us,  who  dare  say  that  the  result  has  not  been  worthy 
of  the  preparation  ? 

Now  I  know  that  is  a  peculiar  case.  But  still  the  dead  in 
Christ  have  a  participation  in  the  ascension  life  of  Christ,  and  no 
matter  how  brief  the  earthly  existence  may  have  been,  no  Christian 
life  has  ever  been  in  vain.  There  have  been  influences,  we  may 
be  sure,  on  the  companions  of  this  beloved  girl,  which  shall  tell 
many  days  hence,  and  in  the  outcome  of  which  she  will,  so  to 
say,  live  anew.  And  there  will  be  influences  on  those  to  whom 
she  was  dearest,  which  will  affect  them  all  their  days.  That  is  a 
true  and  deep  word  of  the  poet  to  his  friend  in  a  similar  sorrow  to 
this  : 

"  God  gives  us  love  ;  something  to  love 

He  lends  us  ;  then  when  love  is  grown 
To  ripeness,  that  on  which  it  throve 

Falls  off,  and  love  is  left  alone." 

There  has  been  left  by  this  young  life  a  deposit  of  blessing  on 
the  heart  of  every  member  of  her  household,  and  in  the  fertility 
which  that  will  give  to  their  after  lives,  she  will  still  be  operative 
in  the  world.  This  is  true  of  personal  character,  but  I  cannot 
forbear  from  adding,  for  the  sake  of  my  beloved  brother,  the  pas- 
tor of  this  church,  that  it  is  true  also  of  public  usefulness.  Eze- 
kiel  was  made  a  sign  to  the  people  to  whom  he  was  sent,  by  the 
loss  of  his  wife,  when  "  the  desire  of  his  eyes"  was  cut  off  by  a 
stroke  ;  and  through  the  personal  discipline  of  His  ministers  yet, 
God  often  begins  to  give  a  special  blessing  to  their  people.     It  is 


DEATH  OF  AN  ONLY  DAUGHTER.  157 

a  terrible  ordeal.  Yet  when  souls  are  born  again  through  it,  and 
saints  are  built  up  as  the  result,  we  may  see  a  little  of  the  purpose 
of  God  in  our  trial.  This  trial  will  give,  I  am  sure,  new  power 
and  pathos  to  my  brother's  teachings  and  influence  here,  powerful 
as  his  ministry  has  been  in  the  past,  and  he  will  be  able  to  com- 
fort others  with  the  comfort  wherewith  he  himself  was  comforted 
of  God.  Years  ago,  when  first  I  looked  upon  the  face  of  my 
loved  friend  in  the  old  country,  it  pleased  God,  as  he  well  re- 
members, to  come  into  my  home  and  take  within  a  week  two  of 
my  children  to  Himself.  It  was  a  dreadful  experience.  Yet  at 
evening  time  it  was  light,  and  when  within  two  years  after  that 
there  were  no  fewer  than  six  families  in  my  church  similarly 
afflicted,  I  saw  something  at  least  of  God's  design.  I  learned 
that  He  had  sent  me  on  before  these  friends  that  I  might  explore 
the  nature  of  the  path,  and  might  be  the  better  able  to  help  them 
through.  So  it  comes  that  these  darkest  experiences  blossom  up 
into  higher  usefulness.  "  Out  of  the  eater  comes  forth  meat,  and 
out  of  the  bitter  sweetness  ;"  and  we  may  not  doubt  that  the  in- 
fluences of  this  sore  trial  to  the  minister  will  fall  in  blessing  on 
the  people. 

For  the  rest  we  know  whither  Clara  has  gone.  She  is  with 
Jesus.  Safe,  happy,  pure,  and  perfect.  Far  better  than  she  ever 
was  or  even  could  be  on  earth.  Shall  we  wish  her  back  again, 
then  ?     Nay  ; 

"  What  here  we  call  our  life  is  such 
So  little  to  be  loved,  and  she  so  much, 
That  we  would  ill  requite  her  to  constrain 
Her  unbound  spirit  into  bonds  again." 

No.  We  wish  not  to  have  her  back.  We  shall  go  to  her  ;  she 
shall  not  return  to  us.  We  shall  go  to  her,  and  so  that  which  is 
a  happy  memory  is  made  to  give  new  power  to  a  golden  hope. 
The  light  has  not  gone  out  :  it  has  only  been  transferred  from 
earth  to  heaven  to  lighten  us  thither,  and  to  bring  us  more  than 
ever  under  the  power  of  the  world  to  come. 

Blessed  consolation  of  the  Gospel  !  What  should  we  do  at 
such  a  time  without  it  ?  Glorious  triumph  of  the  grace  of  God, 
that  His  comforts  most  abound  when  our  sorrow  is  the  darkest  ! 
The  loved  one  is  absent,  but  she  is  not  distant.  I  have  never 
been  able  to  sing  of  the  happy  land  as  "  far,  far  away."     There 


158  PULPIT  AND   GRAVE. 

is  no  place  to  which  we  are  so  near  as  heaven.  We  cannot  cross 
the  street  without  taking  time  in  which  to  do  it,  but  we  may  be  in 
heaven  in  a  moment.  The  veil  between  this  and  the  heavenly 
life  is  not  one  of  distance,  but  of  nature.  In  this  house  of  our 
Father  there  are  more  mansions  than  the  visible  abode  in  which 
now  we  dwell,  and  our  dear  one  has  but  gone  "  from  one  room 
into  the  next."  When  you  go  down  the  street  arm  in  arm  with  a 
friend,  you  are  not  far  from  him  who  is  walking  on  his  other  side. 
Clara  is  "  with  Christ."  But  we,  too,  in  a  very  real  and  true 
sense,  are  "  with  Christ,"  and  as  we  go  through  life  hand  in  hand 
with  Him  we  cannot  be  far  away  from  those  who  are  on  His 
other  side.  There  is  only  one  between  us,  and  that  one  is  Christ. 
Brother,  let  that  thought  be  your  comfort  in  this  hour  of  sadness. 


A    MOTHER'S    REMOVAL. 

BY   JOHN    HALL,    D.  D.  ,    NEW  YORK. 

Death  being  universal,  it  might  be  supposed  it  would  be  with- 
out variety  of  aspect.  The  common  lot  might  be  expected  to 
have  a  certain  sameness.  What  happens  alike  to  all  might  be 
thought  to  lack  anything  like  variety. 

But  it  is  far  otherwise.  No  two  lives  are  absolutely  identical, 
any  more  than  any  two  bodies.  And  no  two  deaths  are  identical. 
Each  has  something  distinctive  and  peculiar  about  it.  This 
occasion,  for  example,  if  you  will  consider  it,  has  something  that 
renders  it  unlike  other  funerals  you  have  attended. 

A  mother  has  gone  from  her  home  and  household  cares  into 
the  Master's  presence.  A  wife  has  been  called  from  the  duties 
of  this  life  into  the  dwelling-place  of  the  Most  High.  Her 
children  are  not  in  absolute  infancy  ;  but  at  a  time  of  life  when  the 
body  does  not  require,  the  mind  and  character  do  need  care  and 
..oversight.  There  has  been  a  close  and  tender  and  happy  mar- 
iied  life,  but  when  does  the  time  come  to  either  party  in  such  a 
union  when  it  is  felt  that  either  can  be  spared  ?  And,  as  has  hap- 
pened to  mothers  with  startling  and  mournful  frequency  this  past 
winter,  the  stroke  has  descended  with  only  brief  foregoing  warn- 
ing.     All  this  is  displeasing  to  us  naturally.     It  shocks  our  sense 


A  MOTHER'S  REMOVAL.  159 

of  the  fitness  of  things.  It  seems  to  us  as  if  benevolence  would 
lengthen  out  such  a  life,  protract  such  tenderness,  and  give  to  the 
young  the  benefits  of  maternal  supervision,  and  the  comfort  of  a 
mother's  kindly,  constant,  loving  guidance. 

But  it  is  by  such  lessons  that  God  is  constantly  showing  our 
wisdom  to  be  foolishness,  throwing  us  off  from  human  calculations 
and  back  upon  Himself.  It  is  by  such  lessons,  that  make  their 
appeal  to  our  deepest  and  our  best  natural  feelings,  that  He  is 
saying  to  us,  "  Be  still,  and  know  that  I  am  God."  Did  we  live 
in  a  sinless  world,  where  the  exercise  of  benevolence  alone  is 
needed,  and  were  we  sinless  ourselves,  like  the  angels,  taking  in 
heavenly  wisdom  as  we  take  the  air  into  our  lungs,  it  might  not 
be  needed  to  teach  us  this  acquiescence.  But  we  are  slow  of 
heart  to  believe.  Lessons  of  truth  have  to  be  beaten  into  us  with 
many  stripes.  We  are  members  of  a  fallen  race,  and  in  a  world 
where  God  is  owned  only  where  He  compels  attention.  The  seed 
of  life  has  to  be  planted  in  uncongenial  soil,  and  the  breaking  up 
of  the  fallow  ground  is  accomplished  only  by  forcible  and  persist- 
ent application.  We  are,  besides,  all  bound  together,  as  families 
and  communities.  "  No  man  liveth  to  himself,  and  no  man 
dieth  to  himself."  While  God  does  no  injustice  to  the  individ- 
ual, we  may  be  sure,  He  makes  the  providences  that  affect  the  in- 
dividual a  discipline  to  the  family,  an  instruction  to  the  community. 
So  the  sufferer  is  often  an  unconscious  benefactor,  and  God's 
children,  I  think,  often  resemble  the  Master,  who,  while  His 
hands  were  lifted  up  in  blessing,  departed  from  the  disciples,  and 
whose  choicest  gift  came  to  them  when  He  Himself  was  gone  ! 
General  considerations  like  these  go  a  certain  length  to  silence 
objections,  and  enforce  patient  acquiescence  in  God's  will. 

We  can  be  helped  a  little  farther  in  the  same  direction,  if  we 
will  try  to  suppose  an  opposite  course  pursued  by  the  Almighty, 
to  that  which  He  adopts,  and  which  is  here  illustrated.  Suppose, 
for  a  moment,  that  parents  were  uniformly  permitted  to  survive 
to  see  their  children  mature  and  settled  in  life  ;  suppose  no  such 
violent  rending  cf  the  tenderest  ties  ever  to  occur  as  we  witness  ; 
what,  on  general  principles,  might  we  expect  to  see  ? 

Is  not  one  of  the  most  impressive  reflections  in  the  mind  of  a 
thoughtful  husband  or  wife  founded  on  the  possibility  of  separa- 
tion ?  and  is  not  this  the  very  healthiest  check  on  all  tendency  to 


160  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

impatience,  or  undesirable  self-assertion  under  the  inevitable  petty 
troubles  of  life  ?  ' '  We  may  be  parted  at  any  time — let  there  be 
nothing  but  tenderness  to  sweeten  the  present.  Let  there  be  no 
bitterness  to  make  sad  recollections  in  the  future."  So  the 
thought  of  possible  and  even  abrupt  separation  is  a  continual  and 
quite  necessary  motive  to  mutual  forbearance  and  tenderness. 

How  easy  it  is — as  a  second  consideration — in  our  natural  in- 
dolence to  defer  the  careful  training  and  restraining  of  children  ! 
Not  many  parents  mean  to  mislead  their  offspring.  But  too 
many  put  off  the  hard  and  unpalatable  tasks  of  commanding 
them  in  the  right  way  and  enforcing  compliance.  But  if  parents 
uniformly  lived  to  see  them  grow  up  to  maturity,  how  much 
more  powerful  would  this  temptation  become  !  As  it  is,  a 
thoughtful  parent  will  say,  "  I  may  not  be  long  over  these  dear 
ones — let  me  make  the  right  impressions  while  here  ;  by  my 
words,  by  my  spirit,  by  my  life  with  them,  let  me  give  the 
right  direction  to  their  young  lives  ;  for  soon  I  may  be  to 
them  nothing  but  a  name  and  a  memory."  And  you  and  I  will 
miss  something  we  should  gain  from  these  painful  removals,  if  we 
do  not  on  this  principle  count  home-life  more  sacred,  and  home 
responsibilities  greater.  An  error  of  the  tenth  part  of  an  inch 
where  the  bullet  leaves  the  gun  is  a  divergence  of  many  yards 
where  it  is  meant  to  strike.  And  so  slight  error  at  the  point 
where  we  are  in  immediate  contact  with  our  children,  giving  direc- 
tion to  their  commencing  career,  may  be  an  irreparable  mistake  in 
their  lives. 

But  we  need  not — cannot  perhaps  profitably — exercise  reason 
to  a  great  extent  in  a  case  like  this — certainly  not  when  our 
hearts  are  full  and  our  eyes  dim  with  tears.  We  do  better  when 
we  fall  back  on  God's  word  and  believe  it  :  "  This  is  the  victory 
that  overcometh  the  world,  even  your  faith."  Our  sister,  lately 
the  light  and  joy  ol  this  house,  combined  in  an  unusual  degree  a 
cheerful,  playful  spirit,  and  a  bright  and  rapidly  working  fancy, 
with  great  penetration  and  sound  judgment.  She  was  indepen- 
dent in  mind,  averse  to  artificial  and  superficial  life.  She  was  of 
warm,  strong  feelings,  and  gave,  where  she  gave,  her  whole  con- 
fidence. She  was  this  by  nature — would  have  been  this,  I  pre- 
sume, had  nothing  greater  or  deeper  ever  come  to  her.  But 
from  early  life  she  was  under  the  influence  of  that  religion  which 


LIVING   AFTER  DEATH.  161 

she  heard  preached  by  her  father,  and  saw  in  her  home.  For 
years  before  professing  her  faith,  according  to  Church  appoint- 
ment, she  gave  evidence  of  a  true  spiritual  life,  and  her  course 
throughout  has  been  in  consistency  with  that  profession.  The 
Lord  Jesus  was  real  to  her  in  the  cares  and  duties  of  her  course  ; 
He  was  real  to  her  in  hours  of  anxiety  and  pain,  and  if  there  be 
a  great  blank  in  this  home,  it  is  not  because  a  life  has  been  ex- 
tinguished forever,  but  transferred  to  another  sphere,  to  an  ele- 
vation, and  purity,  and  perfection,  of  which  we  see  here  but 
the  germs  and  promises. 

So  we  bury  our  believing  dead  out  of  our  sight,  in  submission 
to  the  divine  will  ;  in  loving  recognition  of  the  Redeemer  who 
has  brought  life  to  us  by  His  own  death  ;  in  confidence  that  even 
their  dust  shall  not  lack  His  affectionate  care  ;  in  the  assur- 
ance that  He  shall  come  again  bringing  His  people  with  Him, 
and  reunite  His  people  in  imperishable  bonds  in  a  glorious  and  a 
deathless  kingdom.  Let  it  be  our  main  care  that  we  be  cf  His 
people  ;  that,  joined  to  Him,  our  natural  affinities  be  with  them  ; 
for  death  neither  regenerates  nor  sanctifies.  The  bent  and 
direction  of  our  life  while  here  must  be  the  bent  and  direction  of 
it  forever.  "  If  we  live  after  the  flesh  we  shall  die  ;  but  if  we, 
through  the  Spirit,  do  mortify  the  deeds  of  the  body,  we  shall 
live." 


LIVING   AFTER    DEATH. 

BY    J.    M.    SHERWOOD,    D.  D. ,    BROOKLYN. 

The  influence  which  mind  exerts  upon  mind  is  a  mysterious 
and  powerful  characteristic  of  our  being.  It  enters  into  every  act, 
relation,  and  circumstance  of  life.  It  begins  with  moral  agency, 
and  extends  along  the  entire  line  of  existence.  It  is  ever  flowing 
out  from  us  through  a  thousand  channels  and  agencies,  over  the 
surface  of  society.  No  man  can  divest  himself  of  this  power,  or 
refrain  from  exercising  it  ;  it  is  a  condition  of  moral  existence  ; 
we  must  exert  a  deep  and  lasting  influence  on  the  world,  for  good 
or  for  evil.  A  link,  unseen,  yet  real,  connects  us  all  with  the  past 
and  with  the  future.      Those  influences  which  are  moulding  our 


162  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

character,  and  working  out  our  destiny,  took  their  rise  far  up  the 
stream  of  time  ;  we  did  not  create  them,  and  we  cannot  arrest  or 
escape  them.  And  we,  in  turn,  are  living  for  coming  ages  ;  souls 
yet  unborn  will  feel  our  influence,  and  be  saved  or  damned  by  it. 
The  good  man  little  knows  the  extent  of  that  blessed  power  which 
he  will  silently  wield  over  human  minds  and  hearts  when  he  has 
ceased  to  be  ;  the  fruit  of  it  all  gathered  to  heaven  will  fill  him 
with  adoring  wonder.  And  the  sinner  knows  not  how  fearfully 
his  influence  will  accumulate  in  after  ages,  nor  how  many  souls 
will  charge  their  sins  upon  him  in  the  judgment-day. 

"  We  are  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made."  Such  are  the  ele- 
ments of  our  own  being,  and  such  our  relations  to  others,  that  we 
cannot  die  in  this  world  or  the  next.  How  numberless  are  our 
actions  ! — and  not  one  of  them  will  ever  find  a  grave,  or  live  an 
idle  life,  or  prove  false  to  its  parentage.  They  may  be  unwise, 
and  regretted  by  us— the  work  of  a  moment's  folly  or  passion; 
no  matter,  we  have  given  them  life  and  we  cannot  take  it  away  ; 
and  they  will  live  on  in  their  consequences  when  the  occasion 
which  called  them  into  being,  and  the  remembrance  of  the  deeds 
themselves,  have  perished — live  still  to  fasten  impressions  on 
human  character,  and  control  the  destiny  of  souls  immortal. 

The  wicked  Cain  is  alive  still  on  the  earth  ;  his  type  of  charac- 
ter is  manifest,  and  his  footprints  are  seen  along  the  pathway  of 
the  living  world.  The  man  who  hates  goodness  and  sheds  inno- 
cent blood,  copies  the  example  and  acts  out  the  spirit  of  the  first 
murderer.  Abel  is  not  dead.  He  belongs  to  living  piety,  as  well 
as  to  history.  By  his  recorded  example  of  obedience  and  faith, 
and  by  the  memory  of  all  that  he  was,  he  is  present  with  the  child 
of  God  in  every  land  and  age  of  the  world,  declaring  the  necessity 
of  faith  in  Jesus,  the  mercy  and  favor  shown  to  the  penitent  and 
believing,  and  the  treatment  which  the  good  are  to  expect  in  this 
world  of  enmity  and  death.  All  the  great  and  good  of  past  ages 
are  speaking  to  us — with  united  voice  crying  to  us  to  press  on  in 
the  race  and  seize  the  immortal  crown  ;  their  influence,  in  letters 
of  light  and  purity,  is  recorded  on  every  page  of  the  world's  his- 
tory ;  it  is  embodied  in  a  thousand  forms  of  living  truth,  and  free- 
dom, and  piety.  The  Voltaires,  and  Paines,  and  Byrons  of  past 
days  are  still  leading  actors  in  the  great  drama  of  life.  Their 
monuments  stand  thick  along  the  road  we  are  travelling  to  im- 


LIVING  AFTER  DEATH.  163 

mortality.  They  live  to-day  in  all  those  sentiments  and  move- 
ments which  are  hostile  to  Christianity,  and  operate,  through  a 
corrupt  literature,  a  false  philosophy,  and  an  infidel  creed,  along  all 
the  channels  of  human  intellect,  affection,  and  enterprise.  On 
their  mission  of  madness  and  death,  they  are  travelling  round  the 
world.  The  missionary  encounters  them  in  the  very  heart  of 
heathendom.  They  are  breeding  a  moral  pestilence  amid  the 
altars  of  Christianity.  The  press  is  wielding  its  giant  power  to 
give  them  a  yet  wider  and  deeper  influence.  What  a  harvest  of 
ruin  and  damnation  will  such  men  reap  !  What  a  legacy  to  leave 
to  posterity  !     What  a  curse  to  entail  upon  untold  generations  ! 

Not  less  certainly,  indeed,  does  the  life  of  every  sinner  reach  into 
the  future.  His  influence  corrupts  and  destroys  beyond  his 
death-bed.  It  rolls  onward  from  his  grave  with  a  cumulative 
sweep  and  strength.  His  example  ruins  his  children  ;  a  whole 
community  is  infected  by  it ;  the  poison  courses  through  all  the 
veins  of  living  men,  and  flows  down  the  ever-widening  channels 
of  human  thought  and  life.  And  should  not  every  good  man, 
therefore,  treasure  up  for  posterity  a  holy  influence,  to  counteract 
the  many  examples  of  wickedness,  and  perpetuate  goodness,  and 
truth,  and  piety  in  the  earth  ?  Should  it  not  be  the  strenuous 
aim  of  every  living  man  to  leave  a  good  influence  to  come  after 
him,  since  he  must  leave  one  of  some  kind — either  a  saving  or  a 
ruining  one  ?  We  cannot  gather  up  our  influence  when  we  come 
to  die,  and  take  it  with  us.  We  cannot  bury  our  example  with 
our  bones  in  the  grave,  so  as  to  prevent  its  breeding  a  moral  pes- 
tilence. We  cannot  take  back  our  words,  call  in  our  .sentiments, 
blot  out  our  deeds,  and  so  put  an  end  to  our  moral  being  on 
earth.  Many  a  dying  man  would  give  worlds  if  he  could  but. do 
this.  If  he  could  drag  with  him  into  the  darkness  and  oblivion 
of  the  grave,  his  infidelity,  his  wicked  example,  and  all  the  evil 
influences  which  he  has  originated  and  set  a-going,  that  they 
might  not  live  after  him,  to  curse  his  memory,  and  blast  the  hopes 
of  his  family  and  friends,  and  entail  misery  on  the  world,  he 
might  die  in  peace.  But  no  :  the  dying  man  cannot  do  it.  He 
has  no  power  over  his  influence  ;  he  cannot  stay  the  waters  which 
he  has  let  out.  He  has  sown  the  seed,  and  the  harvest  is  sure  to 
follow.  The  grave  shall  receive  his  body  only — the  living  world 
will  retain  his  character,  example,  and  principles.     Death  cannot 


164  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

arrest  our  influence  ;  it  may  but  augment  and  diffuse  it.  It  will 
live  and  yield  its  fruit  when  our  names  have  perished  from  the 
earth.  It  may  speak  for  us  in  praise  or  blasphemy,  in  life  or 
death,  while  time  endures.  It  may  go  on  producing  impressions 
on  the  living  world,  which  no  man  or  angel  can  ever  efface. 

There  is  a  thought  here  which  the  minister  of  Christ,  the  pro- 
fessional man,  and  the  man  of  wealth,  the  Sabbath-school  teacher, 
and  above  all,  the  parent,  may  bring  home  to  his  heart  with  salu- 
tary and  impressive  force.  There  is  a  light  of  warning  and  a 
light  of  encouragement  in  it.  Each  of  us  may  so  live  as  that  our 
very  grave  shall  bloom  until  the  resurrection  morn.  The  good 
we  do  is  not  to  be  measured  by  the  length  of  our  days,  but  by 
our  stamp  of  character,  the  piety  of  our  purposes,  the  grandeur  of 
our  aspirations  and  conceptions.  Then  up  and  be  doing,  ye 
children  of  light  !  Every  prayer,  every  charity,  every  effort  for 
Christ,  every  tear  shed  over  sinners,  will  yield  a  revenue  of  reward 
and  glory. 


A   TIME   TO    DIE. 

ANONYMOUS. 

"  Death  !  'tis  a  melancholy  day 
To  those  who  have  no  God, 
When  the  poor  soul  is  forced  away 
To  seek  her  last  abode  !" 

"  A  time  to  die  !"  Only  one  time.  In  seeking  a  fortune  we 
may  make  new  trials  when  we  fail  in  one  ;  but  dying  is  one  sol- 
emn, final,  eternal  experiment  !  The  voyager  launches  upon  a 
shoreless  sea,  and  returns  no  more  forever  to  the  land  he  leaves. 
"  Man  dieth,  and  wasteth  away;  yea,  man  giveth  up  the  ghost, 
and  where  is  he  ?  As  the  waters  fail  from  the  sea,  and  the  flood 
decayeth  and  drieth  up,  so  man  lieth  down  and  riseth  not  :  till 
the  heavens  be  no  more,  they  shall  not  awake,  nor  be  raised  out 
of  their  sleep  !"  The  tide  of  life  will  roll  on  ;  the  bustle  of  the 
world  will  continue  ;  friends  will  meet  in  smiles,  and  part  in 
tears,  as  before  ;  flowers  will  bloom,  and  stars  will  shine  ;  em- 
pires will  arise  and  fall  ;  the  sower  will  walk  forth  and  scatter  in 


A    TIME   TO  DTE.  165 


hope  ;  the  reaper  will  gather  the  sheaf  to  his  bosom  ;  autumn 
winds  will  moan,  and  fierce  wintry  storms  will  drive  in  anger  past ; 
the  cheerful  hearth  will  chime  its  crackling  notes  of  comfort,  with 
glad  music  of  fireside  joys  ;  but  by  all  this  the  dead  are  not 
disturbed,  for  "  they  have  no  more  a  portion  forever  in  anything 
that  is  done  under  the  sun."  They  die,  and  are  laid  into  the 
grave,  and  there  all  is  to  them  alike. 

"  The  storm  that  wreaks  the  wintry  sky 
No  more  disturbs  their  calm  repose, 
Than  summer  evening's  latest  sigh 
That  shuts  the  rose." 

It  is  somewhat  strange  that  the  truth  of  our  mortality  is  so  often 
repeated  in  the  Bible.  "  A  time  to  die"  is  echoed  into  our  ears 
again  and  again.  It  is  because  we  are  so  prone  to  put  the 
thought  of  dying  away  from  us.  Every  day' s  experience  teaches 
this  truth.  The  tolling  bell,  the  long  funeral  train,  the  garments 
of  mourning,  the  new-made  grave,  are  daily  testimonies  that  it  is 
appointed  unto  man  once  to  die.  And  yet  how  soon  is  all  for- 
gotten !  Scarce  has  the  grass  grown  upon  the  grave  of  the  de- 
parted, before  even  many  of  the  relatives  have  ceased  to  feel  that 
death  is  solemn.  As  when  we  throw  a  stone  into  a  stream  it 
causes  a  momentary  sound  and  agitation  of  the  surface,  and  then 
the  stone  lies  silently  below  while  the  stream  glides  on  as  before, 
so  when  one  falls  by  death,  it  causes  a  short  groan,  a  tear,  and  a 
few  thoughts  of  death  and  dying  ;  but  the  sod  is  closed  over,  the 
sleeper  lies  in  silence  beneath,  and  the  tide  of  life  and  human 
folly  flows  madly  on  ! 

The  world  around  is  also  full  of  admonitory  voices.  The  fad- 
ing flower,  the  falling  leaf,  and  the  autumnal  moans  of  the  dying 
year  all  speak  of  death.  We  all  do  fade  as  a  leaf,  and  as  for 
man,  he  cometh  forth  like  a  flower,  and  is  cut  down  !  But  man, 
bent  upon  the  chase  of  wealth  and  honor,  heeds  not,  though  the 
tide  of  life  ebbs  fast  from  his  heart. 

Let  us  but  step  forward  a  little  way  in  life  and  our  death  scenes 
will  be  around  us.  They  will  surely  come.  All  the  solemnity 
which  we  have  witnessed  in  the  death  of  others  will  be  experi- 
enced by  us.  Who  can  realize  fully  the  dread  anxiety  of  the  last 
moment  ?     Solemn  twilight,  in  which  the  dying  rays  of  earth  and 


1 66  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

the  new-born  light  of  heaven  are  blended  !  The  world  and  life  are 
full  of  changes,  but  there  is  no  change  like  dying.  How  far  is 
that  moment  from  us  ?  The  answer  is,  ' '  man  also  knoweth  not 
his  time. ' '  A  step,  as  thy  soul  liveth,  is  between  thee  and  the 
grave  !  "As  the  fishes  that  are  taken  in  an  evil  net,  and  as  the 
birds  that  are  caught  in  the  snare,  so  are  the  sons  of  men  snared 
in  an  evil  time,  when  it  falleth  suddenly  upon  them."  These 
figures  are  expressive.  The  fish  in  the  net,  while  it  is  yet  in  the 
water,  thinks  he  is  still  at  liberty,  and  while,  the  net  is  drawn 
toward  the  shore  he  knows  not  that  he  is  snared  ;  even  while  he 
is  at  the  edge  of  the  water  he  feels  still  in  his  element,  when  lo  ! 
at  once  he  is  raised  above  the  surface  and  he  is  caught.  He  was 
in  the  net  before,  and  was  in  reality  caught,  but  now  he  feels  it ; 
so  man  swims  in  the  midst  of  influences  and  tendencies  which 
are  preparing  his  dissolution,  and  when  he  is  thus  led  to  the  very 
shore  of  eternity,  he  is  suddenly  snared  and  carried  away.  So 
also  the  bird  walks  upon  the  snare,  and  knoweth  not  that  it  is 
for  its  life,  when  at  once  it  is  caught.  So  also  a  blind  man  walks 
up  to  a  precipice,  and  knows  not  that  the  next  step  will  dash  him 
upon  the  rocks  below.  Great  God  !  how  solemn  thus  to  walk  on 
the  earth  hollow  with  the  caverns  of  the  dead,  and  not  know  at 
what  moment  the  frail  shell  upon  which  we  stand  may  break 
down  into  eternal  burnings  !  How  knowest  thou,  O  man,  how 
far  before  thee  stands  the  stake  which  is  to  bound  the  days  of  thy 
pilgrimage  !  Who  has  numbered  your  days  and  told  you  their 
sum  ?  If  you  know  not,  why  do  you  boast  yourself  of  to-mor- 
row, and  say  it  shall  be  as  this  day.  Why  does  vain  man  walk  so 
proudly,  so  carelessly,  and  so  madly  forward,  not  knowing 
whether  the  next  foot  he  puts  down  will  be  on  earth,  in  heaven, 
or  in  hell  !  ' '  Seeing  his  days  are  determined,  the  number  of  his 
months  are  with  thee,  thou  hast  appointed  his  bounds  that  he 
cannot  pass." 

"  How  shocking  must  thy  summons  be,  O  death  ! 
To  him  that  is  at  ease  in  his  possessions  ; 
Who,  counting  on  long  years  of  pleasure  here, 
Is  quite  unfurnished  for  that  world  to  come  !" 

There  must  be  some  painful  things  in  the  death  of  a  wicked 
man.      Many  untold  horrors  must  gather  around  him  in  that  fear- 


THE  MASTER'S  SHEPHERD  DOG.  167 

ful  crisis.  Of  this  the  countenance  of  the,  corpse  the  moment  after 
death  bears  awful  witness.  Who  has  not  observed  the  difference 
in  the  countenance  of  the  recently  dead  ?  The  infant  gathers  a 
smile  upon  its  face  in  the  moment  of  death,  which  it  retains  for  days. 
Perhaps  that  smile  is  a  response  to  the  friendly  greetings  of  angels 
who  are  waiting  with  friendly  wing  to  bear  the  disembodied  spirit 
to  its  God.  Or  it  is  caused  by  the  sweet  presence  of  the  Saviour, 
who  stands  by,  as  if  kindly  to  reprove  the  weeping  parents  with 
those  blessed  words,  "Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  Me." 
Not  only  in  children,  but  in  aged  Christians  who  died  ripe  for 
glory,  is  the  same  phenomenon  often  witnessed.  The  smile  of 
the  spirit  when  it  breaks  through  into  glory  is  left  behind  impressed 
upon  the  lineaments  of  the  face.  But  who  has  not  witnessed 
the  haggard  and  gloomy  horror  that  death  leaves  behind  it  on  the 
countenance  of  the  man  of  sin  who  dies  in  despair?  It  seems,  as 
if  by  some  deep  convulsion,  the  soul  were  expelled  in  shattered 
fragments  from  the  body  !  The  half-opened  mouth  and  the  eyes 
fixed  in  wild  astonishment  denote  that  the  soul  at  the  moment  of 
its  exit  had  been  fearfully  surprised.  And  why  should  it  not, 
when  perhaps  at  the  moment  it  realized  the  thrilling  truth,  "  Thou 
art  weighed  in  the  balance  and  art  found  wanting  !"  O  man  of 
sin,  in  your  life's  last  twilight  hour,  you  will  find  around  you 
images  ill  boding  and  fearful,  and  dark  floating  phantoms  re- 
lieved in  lurid  fire,  will  be  the  landscape  sketched  out  before 
your  dying  eyes  \ 


THE   MASTER'S    SHEPHERD   DOG* 

BY  JUSTIN  D.  FULTON,  D.D.,  BROOKLYN. 

Uncle  John  Vassar,  the  eminent  lay  evangelist,  the  poor  man's 
friend,  the  soldier's  preacher,  could  say  with  the  apostle  (2 
Cor.  ii.  14)  :  "  Now,  thanks  be  unto  God  who  always  causeth  us 
to  triumph  in  Christ."  It  was  in  Christ  he  triumphed,  never 
apart  from  Him.  The  words  of  the  apostle  were  written  while  he 
held  in  his  thoughts  the  triumphal  procession  in  which  all  the 
paraphernalia  of  war,  all  the  glories  of  success,  all  the  manifesta- 

*  At  the  funeral  of  John  Vassar,  Poughkeepsie,  N.  Y. 


1 68  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

tions  of  joy  should  be  employed  publicly  to  express  thanks  to 
some  honored  chieftain  whose  wisdom,  whose  prowess,  and  whose 
leadership  had  won  victories  for  the  army  and  glory  for  the 
nation. 

On  such  occasions  the  victorious  commander  was  usually  pre- 
ceded by  the  spoils  of  war,  among  which  were  the  most  valuable 
and  magnificent  trophies  which  had  been  obtained  by  the  princes, 
nobles,  generals,  and  representatives  of  the  people  whom  he  had 
captured.  On  the  platform  of  a  car  drawn  by  milk-white  steeds 
was  an  altar  on  which  were  burning  aromatics,  whose  cloud  of  in- 
cense and  fragrance  pavilioned  the  multitude  and  spread  through 
the  capital  the  information  that  a  wonderful  triumph  had  been  de- 
clared. 

It  was  review  day  with  Paul.  He  has  in  his  mind's  eye 
Damascus,  where  he  was  let  down  the  wall  in  the  basket ;  Troas, 
where  he  was  disappointed  in  not  seeing  Titus  ;  Philippi,  where 
he  found  no  place  to  worship  and  so  went  to  the  river  bank  ;  he 
thinks  of  the  town  where  he  was  beaten  and  dragged  through  the 
street  as  one  dead,  where  he  had  revelations  he  dare  not  disclose  ; 
of  his  night  in  the  prison,  where  the  jailer  was  converted  after  the 
earthquake's  throes,  after  a  night  had  been  given  up  to  singing 
praises  to  God  ;  he  thinks  of  being  before  Felix  and  Agrippa,  of 
being  sent  to  Rome,  of  his  shipwreck  and  disasters,  and  yet  ex- 
claims, "  Now,  God  be  thanked  who  always  causeth  me  to 
triumph  in  Christ." 

Paul  triumphed  in  Christ  because  Christ  his  Lord  found  it 
always  possible  to  triumph  in  him.  He  lived  for  Christ  and  not 
for  self.  His  business  consisted  in  doing  the  will  of  God  ;  he 
had  no  other  desire  but  to  glorify  Christ,  on  shipboard,  in  tent- 
making,  in  marching,  in  prison  and  in  palace.  The  victories 
were  won  for  him,  not  by  him,  and  before  the  world  he  desired  to 
place  the  testimonials  of  gratitude  to  Christ,  who  triumphed  in 
him  in  every  place. 

This  is  review  day.  In  this  life  now  closed  methinks  I  hear  the 
echoes  of  the  same  shout  of  triumph.  Uncle  John  Vassar  took 
no  glory  to  himself.  From  the  day  when  the  Spirit  of  God  wres- 
tled with  him  in  the  brewery,  causing  him  to  give  up  position, 
business,  thoughts  of  opulence  and  independence,  our  brother 
found  in  Christ  the  source  of  power  and  the  earnest  of  victory. 


THE  MASTER'S  SHEPHERD  DOG.  169 

Though  he  is  mourned  to-day  from  Maine  to  California  ; 
though  he  will  be  remembered  in  the  palaces  of  the  gieat  and  in 
the  cabins  of  the  humble  as  few  men  ever  were  or  will  be,  yet  he 
was  distinguished  for  winning  victories  on  fields  which  by  the 
majority  would  be  neglected,  or  turned  from  in  contempt.  He 
began  as  a  colporteur.  He  grew  to  be  a  master  in  Israel,  and 
was  the  companion,  the  brother  beloved,  of  the  noblest  of  the 
land.  He  sought  not  his  own,  but  was  everywhere  as  He  that 
served.  It  was  in  Boston  I  first  saw  him.  The  war  was  over. 
He  had  been  working  in  some  one  of  the  churches,  when  on 
one  occasion  he  came  into  a  meeting  at  Tremont  Temple.  God 
was  there.  I  seem  to  see  Uncle  John's  eyes  now  as  they  flashed 
with  joy.  I  hear  his  voice  in  song.  I  seem  to  see  him  all  on 
fire,  rolling  from  side  to  side,  and,  half  laughing  and  half  crying, 
overflowing  with  love.  He  did  not  speak,  he  did  not  pray  ;  he 
revelled  in  bliss.  When  at  the  close  of  the  meeting  I  took  his 
hand  and  asked  his  name,  he  said,  "I  am  Uncle  John  Vassar, 
the  Master's  shepherd  dog  !  I  have  been  helping  so-and-so,  and 
I  am  just  through,  and  as  I  had  a  spare  hour,  I  came  into  your 
meeting  to  get  a  little  honey  from  the  rock.  It  is  good  to  be 
here,  brother  ;  it  is  good  to  be  here." 

"  Can't  you  stay  a  week  and  help  ?" 

"  You  must  ask  so-and-so,  who  has  charge  of  me."  I  ob- 
tained his  help.  How  he  took  hold.  I  hardly  saw  him  ;  but 
how  he  did  pull  sinners  out  of  the  fire  day  after  day  !  He 
brought  trophies  and  laid  them  at  his  Master's  feet.  He  has 
often  been  with  my  people,  never  much  with  me.  He  was  a 
worker.  He  was  not  much  in  sight ;  and  yet  I  hold  in  my 
memory  a  sermon  he  delivered  in  Tremont  Temple,  which  was 
one  of  the  most  impressive  to  which  I  ever  listened.  He  had 
immense  power  on  the  platform.  He  plowed  in  the  closet  and 
could  reap  everywhere. 

His  characteristics  were  :  (1)  Piety  ;  Christ  lived  in  him.  (2) 
Consecration.  Harlan  Page  did  not  surpass  him.  (3)  Self-for- 
getfulness.  He  lived  for  his  family  next  to  Christ.  This  church 
and  that  home  in  Poughkeepsie  were  always  in  his  thought.  (4) 
Tact — unbounded  tact.  (5)  Wisdom,  which  came  from  God. 
(6)  Love,  love,  love  !  (7)  Devotion  to  friends.  (8)  Capabilities 
to  win  favor  for  Christ.     Among  the  poorest  he  was  one  of  -them, 


170  PULPIT  AND   GRAVE. 

entered  into  all  their  sorrows  ;   and  among  the  rich  he  was  a 
brother  beloved. 

Few  men  will  be  more  tenderly  mourned,  for  few  were  more 
tenderly  beloved.  In  the  schoolhouses  and  country  churches  of 
New  England  his  face  has  been  seen.  Over  its  bleak  hills  and 
through  its  valleys  his  feet  have  carried  him  as  he  sought  the 
wandering  sheep.  In  villages  and  cities  no  form  is  more  familiar, 
no  face  was  more  tenderly  beloved.  In  his  life  was  the 
romance  of  John  Bunyan,  the  simplicity  and  the  earnestness  of 
John  Vine  Hall.  One  wrote,  "Come  to  Jesus!"  the  other  il- 
lustrated it.  Both  are  with  Jesus  and  are  crowned  heroes  ever- 
more. 


INFIDELITY  AND  THE  GRAVE. 

BY  ROBERT  G.  INGERSOLL.  * 

[The  title  is  our  own.  We  give  this  address  by  way  of  contrast.  No 
beauty  of  language  or  wealth  of  natural  affection  can  hide  the  utter 
dreariness  and  darkness  of  the  picture  here  drawn.  If  unbelief  has  no 
word  of  hope  or  comfort  in  life's  supreme  hour  and  in  the  presence  of 
death,  we  turn  with  relief  and  rejoicing  to  the  teachings  of  Him  who  is 
the  Resurrection  and  the  Life. — Editor.] 

My  friends,  I  am  going  to  do  that  Which  the  dead  oft  prom- 
ised he  would  do  for  me.  The  lovely  and  loving  brother,  hus- 
band, father,  friend,  died  where  manhood's  morning  almost 
touches  noon,  and  while  the  shadows  still  were  falling  toward  the 
west.  He  had  not  passed  on  life's  highway  the  stone  that  marks 
the  highest  point ;  but  being  weary  for  a  moment  he  laid  down 
by  the  wayside,  and,  using  his  burden  for  a  pillow,  fell  into  that 
dreamless  sleep  that  kisses  down  his  eyelids  still.  While  yet  in 
love  with  life  and  raptured  with  the  world,  he  passed  to  silence 
and  pathetic  dust. 

Yet,  after  all,  it  may  be  best,  just  in  the  happiest,  sunniest 
hour  of  all  the  voyage,  while  eager  winds  are  kissing  every  sail, 
to  dash  against  the  unseen  rock,  and  in  an  instant  hear  the  bil- 
lows roar  above  a  sunken  ship.  For  whether  in  mid  sea  or 
'mong  the  breakers  of  the  farther  shore,  a  wreck  must  mark  at 

*  At  the  funeral  of  his  brother. 


INFIDELITY  AND   THE   GRAVE.  171 

last  the  end  of  each  and  all  ;  and  every  life,  no  matter  if  its  every 
hour  is  rich  with  love  and  every  moment  jewelled  with  a  joy,  will, 
at  its  close,  become  a  tragedy  as  sad  and  deep  and  dark  as  can  be 
woven  of  the  warp  and  woof  of  mystery  and  death. 

This  brave  and  tender  man  in  every  storm  of  life  was  oak  and 
rock,  but  in  the  sunshine  he  was  vine  and  flower.  He  was  the 
friend  of  all  heroic  souls.  He  climbed  the  heights  and  left  all 
superstitions  far  below,  while  on  his  forehead  fell  the  golden 
dawning  of  a  grander  day.  He  loved  the  beautiful,  and  was  with 
color,  form,  and  music  touched  to  tears.  He  sided  with  the 
weak,  and  with  a  willing  hand  gave  alms  ;  with  loyal  heart,  and 
with  the  purest  hands  he  faithfully  discharged  all  public  trusts. 
He  was  a  worshipper  of  liberty,  a  friend  of  the  oppressed.  A 
thousand  times  I  have  heard  him  quote  these  words  :  "  For  jus- 
tice all  places  a  temple,  and  all  seasons  summer."  He  believed 
that  happiness  was  the  only  good,  reason  the  only  torch,  justice 
the  only  worship,  humanity  the  only  religion,  and  love  the  only 
priest.  He  added  to  the  sum  of  human  joy,  and  were  every  one 
for  whom  he  did  some  loving  service  to  bring  a  blossom  to  his 
grave  he  would  sleep  to-night  beneath  a  wilderness -of  flowers. 

Life  is  a  narrow  vale  between  the  cold  and  barren  peaks  of  two 
eternities.  We  strive  in  vain  to  look  beyond  the  heights.  We  cry 
aloud,  and  the  only  answer  is  the  echo  of  our  wailing  cry.  From 
the  voiceless  lips  of  the  unreplying  dead  there  comes  no  word  ; 
but  in  the  night  of  death  hope  sees  a  star,  and  listening  love  can 
hear  the  rustle  of  a  wing.  He  who  sleeps  here,  when  dying,  mis- 
taking the  approach  of  death  for  the  return  of  health,  whispered 
with  his  latest  breath,  "  I  am  better  now."  Let  us  believe,  in 
spite  of  doubts  and  dogmas  and  tears  and  fears,  that  these  dear 
words  are  true  of  all  the  countless  dead.  And  now  to  you  who 
have  been  chosen  from  among  the  many  men  he  loved  to  do  the 
last  sad  office  for  the  dead,  we  give  his  sacred  dust.  Speech  can- 
not contain  our  love.  There  was,  there  is,  no  gentler,  stronger, 
manlier  man. 


172  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 


FUNERAL   ORATION  FOR  THE  PRINCE  OF    CONDE.* 

BY  JAMES  BENIGNE    BOSSUET. 

[From  the  French.] 

Peroration. 

Come,  ye  people,  come  now — or  rather  ye  Princes  and  Lords, 
ye  judges  of  the  earth,  and  ye  who  open  to  man  the  portals  of 
heaven  ;  and  more  than  all  others,  ye  Princes  and  Princesses, 
nobles  descended  from  a  long  line  of  kings,  lights  of  France,  but 
to-day  in  gloom,  and  covered  with  your  grief  as  with  a  cloud, 
come  and  see  how  little  remains  of  a  birth  so  august,  a  grandeur 
so  high,  a  glory  so  dazzling.  Look  around  on  all  sides,  and  see 
all  that  magnificence  and  devotion  can  do  to  honor  so  great  a 
hero  :  titles  and  inscriptions,  vain  signs  of  that  which  is  no  more  ; 
shadows  which  weep  around  a  tomb,  fragile  images  of  a  grief 
which  time  sweeps  away  with  everything  else  ;  columns  which 
appear  as  if  they  would  bear  to  heaven  the  magnificent  evidence  of 
our  emptiness  ;  nothing,  indeed,  is  wanting  in  all  these  honors  but 
the  one  to  whom  they  are  rendered  !  Weep  then  over  these  feeble 
remains  of  human  life  ;  weep  over  that  mournful  immortality  we 
give  to  heroes.  But  draw  near  especially  ye  who  run,  with  such 
ardor,  the  career  of  glory,  intrepid  and  warrior  spirits  !  Who 
was  more  worthy  to  command  you,  and  in  whom  did  ye  find  com- 
mand more  honorable  ?  Mourn  then  that  great  Captain,  and 
weeping,  say,  "  Here  is  the  man  that  led  us  through  all  hazards, 
under  whom  were  formed  so  many  renowned  captains,  raised  by 
his  example  to  the  highest  honors  of  war  ;  his  shadow  might  yet 
gain  battles,  and  lo  !  in  his  silence,  his  very  name  animates  us, 
and  at  the  same  time  warns  us  that  to  find,  at  death,  some  rest 
from  our  toils,  and  not  arrive  unprepared  at  our  eternal  dwelling, 
we  must,  with  an  earthly  king,  yet  serve  the  King  of  Heaven." 
Serve  then  that  immortal  and  ever-merciful  King,  who  will  value  a 
sigh  or  a  cup  of  cold  water,  given  in  His  name,  more  than  all 
others  will  value  the  shedding  of  your  blood.     And  begin  to 

*  Delivered  before  Louis  XIV.,  of  France. 


ORATION  FOR    THE  PRINCE   OF  CONDE.         173 

reckon  the  time  of  your  useful  services  from  the  clay  on  which 
you  gave  yourselves  to  so  beneficent  a  Master.  Will  not  ye  too 
come,  ye  whom  he  honored  by  making  you  his  friends  ?  To 
whatever  extent  you  enjoyed  his  confidence,  come  all  of  you, 
and  surround  this  tomb.  Mingle  your  prayers  with  your  tears  ; 
and  while  admiring,  in  so  great  a  prince,  a  friendship  so  excellent, 
an  intercourse  so  sweet,  preserve  the  remembrance  of  a  hero 
whose  goodness  equalled  his  courage.  Thus  may  he  ever  prove 
your  cherished  instructor  ;  thus  may  you  profit  by  his  virtues  ; 
and  may  his  death,  which  you  deplore,  serve  you  at  once  for  con- 
solation and  example.  For  myself,  if  permitted,  after  all  others, 
to  render  the  last  offices  at  this  tomb,  O  prince,  the  worthy  sub- 
ject of  our  praises  and  regrets,  thou  wilt  live  forever  in  my 
memory.  There  will  thy  image  be  traced,  but  not  with  that  bold 
aspect  which  promises  victory.  No,  I  would  see  in  you  nothing 
which  death  can  efface.  You  will  have  in  that  image  only  im- 
mortal traits.  I  shall  behold  you  such  as>  you  were  in  your  last 
hours  under  the  hand  of  God,  when  His  glory  began  to  dawn 
upon  you.  There  shall  I  see  you  more  triumphant  than  at  Fri- 
bourg  and  at  Rocroy  ;  and  ravished  by  so  glorious  a  triumph,  I 
shall  give  thanks  in  the  beautiful  words  of  the  well-beloved  disci- 
ple, "  This  is  the  victory  that  overcometh  the  world,  even  our 
faith."  Enjoy,  O  prince,  this  victory,  enjoy  it  forever,  through 
the  everlasting  efficacy  of  that  sacrifice.  *  Accept  these  last  efforts 
of  a  voice  once  familiar  to  you.  With  you  these  discourses  shall 
end.  Instead  of  deploring  the  death  of  others,  great  prince,  I  would 
henceforth  learn  from  you  to  render  my  own  holy  ;  happy,  if  re- 
minded by  these  white  locks  of  the  account  which  I  must  give  of 
my  ministry  ;  I  reserve  for  the  flock  which  I  have  to  feed  with  the 
word  of  life,  the  remnants  of  a  voice  which  falters,  and  an  ardor 
which  is  fading  away. 

*  The  sacrifice  of  the  mass,  which  concluded  the  funeral  ceremony. 


174  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 


FUNERAL   ORATION   ON   LOUIS  THE   GREAT. 

BY   JEAN    BAPTISTE    MASSILLON. 

[From  the  French.] 

Peroration. 

Return  then  to  the  bosom  of  thy  God,  whence  thou  didst 
come,  O  heroic  and  Christian  soul  !  Your  heart  is  already  where 
your  treasure  is.  Break  these  feeble  ties  of  mortality,  which  pro- 
long your  desires  and  retard  your  hope  ;  the  day  of  our  grief  is 
the  day  of  your  glory  and  your  triumph.  May  the  guardian 
angels  of  France  go  before  you  to  conduct  you  with  pomp  upon 
the  throne  which  is  appointed  unto  you  in  the  heavens  at  the  side 
of  your  ancestors,  the  royal  saints  Charlemagne  and  Saint  Louis. 
Go  and  meet  Theresa,  Louis,  and  Adelaide,  who  await  you,  and 
with  them,  in  your  immortal  sojourn,  dry  the  tears  which  you 
have  shed  over  their  ashes.  And  if,  as  we  hope,  the  sanctity  and 
uprightness  of  your  intentions  have  made  good  before  God  that 
which  during  the  course  of  so  long  a  reign  was  wanting  in  the 
merit  of  your  works  and  the  integrity  of  your  justice,  then,  from 
the  heights  of  your  celestial  domain,  watch  over  a  kingdom  which 
you  leave  in  affliction,  over  an  infant  king  who  has  not  had  the 
leisure  to  grow  and  ripen  under  your  eyes  and  example,  and 
secure  the  end  of  the  evils  which  overwhelm  us,  and  of  the  crimes 
which  seem  to  multiply  with  our  disasters. 

And  Thou,  great  God,  from  the  height  of  heaven,  cast  down 
thine  eyes  of  pity  upon  this  desolate  monarchy,  where  the  glory  of 
thy  name  is  better  known  than  among  other  nations,  where  faith 
is  as  old  as  the  crown,  and  where  it  has  ever  been  upon  the  throne 
as  pure  as  the  very  blood  of  our  kings  that  occupied  it.  Defend 
us  from  the  troubles  and  dissensions  unto  which  Thou  dost  nearly 
always  deliver  the  infancy  of  kings.  Leave  to  us  the  consolation 
of  at  least  peaceably  bewailing  our  misfortunes  and  losses.  Ex- 
tend the  wings  of  thy  protecting  care  over  the  precious  child  that 
Thou  hast  put  at  the  head  of  thy  people — that  august  offspring  of 
so  many  kings,  that  innocent  victim,  the  only  one  saved  from  the 


ORATION   ON  LOUIS  THE   GREAT.  175 

blows  of  Thy  wrath  and  from  the  extinction  of  the  royal  race. 
Give  unto  him  a  docile  heart  to  receive  the  instructions  which 
must  be  sustained  by  good  example  ;  that  piety,  compassion, 
humanity,  and  many  other  virtues,  which  influenced  his  educa- 
tion, may  be  felt  throughout  the  whole  course  of  his  reign.  Be 
Thou  his  God  and  his  Father,  to  teach  him  to  be  the  father  of  his 
subjects  ;  and  lead  us  altogether  unto  a  blessed  immortality. 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED. 


SORROW   FOR   THE   DEATH   OF  FRIENDS. 

BY    REV.   JAMES    SAURIN. 
[From  the  French.] 

But  I  would  not  have  you  to  be  ignorant,  brethren,  concerning  them  which 
are  asleep,  that  ye  sorrow  not  even  as  others  which  have  no  hope. — i  Thess. 
iv.  13- 

St.  Paul  does  not  condemn  all  sorts  of  sorrow  occasioned  by 
the  loss  of  those  we  love.  He  requires  only  that  Christians  should 
not  be  inconsolable  in  these  circumstances  as  those  which  have 
no  hope. 

I.   The  sorrow  which  is  reprehensible. 

i.  That-  ivhich  proceeds  from  distrust.  Such  is  sometimes  our 
situation  on  earth,  that  all  our  good  devolves  on  a  single  point.  A 
house  rises  to  affluence.  All  its  elevation  proceeds  from  a  single 
head.  This  head,  the  protector,  the  father,  the  friend,  expires, 
and  by  that  single  stroke  all  our  honors  and  pleasures  seem  to 
descend  with  him  into  the  tomb.  At  this  stroke  nature  groans, 
the  flesh  murmurs,  the  soul  is  wholly  absorbed  in  its  calamity,  and 
concentrates  itself  in  anguish.  Now,  when  the  loss  of  a  temporal 
good  casts  into  despair,  it  was  obviously  the  object  of  our  love — a 
capital  crime  in  the  eye  of  religion.  The  most  innocent  connec- 
tions of  life  cease  to  be  innocent  when  they  become  too  strongly 
cemented.  Whether  it  be  a  father,  or  a  husband,  or  a  child, 
which  renders  us  idolaters,  idolatry  is  not  the  less  odious  in  the 
eyes  of  God.  These  strokes  of  God's  hand  are  the  tests  whereby 
He  tries  our  faith,  according  to  the  Apostle's  idea  (i  Peter  i  :  7). 
In  prosperity  it  is  difficult  to  determine  whether  it  be  love  for  the 
gift  or  the  Giver  which  excites  our  devotion.      It  is  in  the  midst 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  177 

of  tribulation  that  we  can  recognize  a  genuine  zeal  and  a  conscious 
piety.  The  example  of  Abraham  here  occurs  to  our  view.  If 
ever  a  mortal  had  cause  to  fix  his  hopes  on  any  object,  it  was 
Abraham  on  his  son  Isaac.  Yet  when  commanded  to  sacrifice 
that  son,  what  did  Abraham  do  ?  He  submitted  ;  yet  in  submit- 
ting, he  hoped.  How  did  he  hope  ?  He  hoped  against  hope. 
Believers,  here  is  your  father.  If  ye  are  the  children  of  Abraham, 
do  the  works  of  Abraham. 

2.  That  sorrow  of  which  despondency  is  the  principle.  A  man 
judges  of  the  happiness  of  others  by  the  notion  of  his  own  happi- 
ness, and  estimating  life  as  the  supreme  good,  he  regards  the  per- 
son deprived  of  it  as  worthy  of  the  tenderest  compassion.  The 
dead  one  seems  to  us  to  be  stripped  of  all  comforts.  If  he  had 
lost  his  fortune,  his  sight,  one  of  his  limbs,  we  should  have  sym- 
pathized in  his  affliction  ;  how  much  more  so  when  he  has  been 
by  a  stroke  deprived  of  all  these  things  !  This  sorrow  is  appro- 
priate to  those  who  are  destitute  of  hope  ;  but  for  Christians  noth- 
ing is  more  directly  contrary  to  the  faith  they  profess.  For  we  be- 
lieve the  soul  to  be  immortal  ;  we  believe  the  deceased  who  were 
here  upon  earth  subject  to  so  much  of  trial  and  temptation,  are 
now  afflicted  no  more,  but  are  come  to  Mount  Zion,  and  see  God 
face  to  face. 

3.  The  sorrow  which  co??ies  of  a  mistaken  piety.  The  foregoing 
remarks  apply  to  those  sorrowing  over  the  Christian's  death.  But 
should  not  piety  indulge  her  tears  when  we  see  die  impenitent 
those  who  were  closely  bound  to  us  by  ties  of  nature  ?  We 
answer,  first,  that  nothing  is  more  presumptive  than  to  decide  on 
the  eternal  loss  of  men.  A  contrite  heart  may  be  concealed  under 
the  exterior  of  reprobation.  But  often  the  lives  we  love  afford  us 
too  just  a  ground  of  apprehension,  and  even  doubt  on  such  a 
matter  is  anguish.  I  confess  it  would  be  unreasonable  to  censure 
tears  in  such  a  case.  An  ordinary  piety  is  inadequate  to  repress 
excess.  Yet  religion  forbids,  even  in  such  a  case,  to  sorrow  above 
measure.  Consider  that  (1)  our  grief  really  proceeds  from  a 
carnal  principle.  If  the  grief  were  altogether  spiritual,  if  it  were 
merely  from  the  idea  of  a  lost  soul,  whence  is  it  that  this  one  ob- 
ject should  excite  us  so  much  more  intensely  than  the  multitude 
of  unhappy  men  all  around  us  rushing  to  destruction  ?  (2)  The 
love  we  have  for  the  creature  should  always  conform  itself  to  the 


178  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

love  for  the  Creator.  We  should  love  our  neighbors,  but  when  a 
man  becomes  an  avowed  enemy  of  God,  our  love  should  return  to 
its  centre  and  associate  itself  with  the  love  of  the  Creator  (2 
Cor.  v.  16  ;  Ps.  cxxxix.  22  ;  Matt.  x.  37).  This  duty  may  be 
too  exalted  for  the  earth.  The  sentiments  of  nature  may  be  too 
closely  intertwined  with  those  of  religion  to  be  so  distinguished. 
But  it  is  certain  they  shall  be  in  heaven. 
II.   The  grief  which  is  innocent. 

1.  The  grief  of  sympathy.  The  submissive  sorrow  by  which  we 
feel  our  loss,  without  shutting  our  eyes  to  the  resources  of  Provi- 
dence ;  the  sorrow  which  weeps  at  the  sufferings  of  our  friends  in 
the  road  to  glory,  but  confident  of  their  having  attained  that  glory 
— this  sorrow,  so  far  from  being  culpable,  is  an  inseparable  senti- 
ment of  nature  and  an  indispensable  duty  of  religion.  Yes,  it  is 
allowed  to  recall  the  endearments  which  intimacy  with  the  dead 
shed  upon  our  life — those  tender  adieus  at  the  final  parting,  the 
fervent  prayers,  the  torrents  of  tears,  the  last  efforts  of  expiring 
tenderness.  It  is  allowed  in  weeping  to  show  the  garments  which 
Dorcas  had  made.  It  is  allowed  the  tender  Joseph,  coming  to  the 
tomb  of  his  father,  to  make  Canaan  resound  with  the  cries  of  his 
grief.  It  is  allowed  David  to  go  weeping,  and  saying,  "  would  to 
God  I  had  died  for  thee,  O  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son  !"  (2  Sam. 
xviii.  33). 

2.  Sorrow  from  the  dictates  of  nature.  The  first  reflection  which 
the  sight  of  a  corpse  should  make  is  that  we  also  must  die.  This 
is  a  reflection  every  one  seems  to  make,  while  in  reality  we  gener- 
ally avoid  the  particular  application  to  our  hearts.  We  follow  the 
dead  to  their  burial,  we  return  home  to  divide  their  riches  and 
enter  upon  their  estates,  just  as  the  presumptuous  mariner,  who, 
seeing  a  ship  upon  the  shore  driven  by  the  tempest,  takes  his  bark 
and  braves  the  billows  to  share  in  the  spoils  of  the  wreck.  A 
prudent  man  contemplates  the  death  of  his  friends  with  other  eyes. 
He  clothes  himself  in  their  shroud  ;  he  extends  himself  in  their 
coffin  ;  he  regards  his  body  as  about  to  become  like  their  corpse, 
and  the  duty  he  owes  to  himself  inspires  him  with  a  gracious  sor- 
row on  seeing  in  the  fate  of  his  lamented  friends  an  image  of  his 
own. 

3.  The  sorrow  which  brings  repentance.  Seeing  Jesus  Christ  has 
satisfied  the  justice  of  the  Father  for  the  sins  of  Christians,  why 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  179 

should  they  still  die  ?  To  this  it  is  commonly  replied  that  death 
is  now  no  longer  a  punishment  for  our  sins,  but  a  tempest  that 
rolls  us  into  port.  This  is  a  solid  reply,  but  we  still  may  ask, 
Why  does  God  lead  us  by  so  strait  a  way  ;  for,  say  all  we  can, 
dying  is  still  a  terrible  thing,  and  death  a  formidable  ioe.  Why 
do  not  God's  chariots  carry  us  up  to  heaven  as  they  once  carried 
Elijah  ?  I  answer,  that  the  death  of  the  righteous  is  a  portrait  of 
the  divine  justice  which  we  should  have  constantly  in  view.  It  is 
an  awful  monument  of  the  horror  God  has  of  sin,  which  should 
teach  us  to  avoid  it.  "  If  the  righteous  be  saved  with  difficulty, 
where  shall  the  wicked  appear  ?  If  the  judgment  of  God  begin  at 
His  house,  where  shall  the  end  be  of  those  that  obey  not  the  Gos- 
pel ?"  (1  Pet.  iv.  17,  18). 

These  are  the  three  sorts  of  sorrow  that  the  death  of  our  friends 
should  excite  in  our  breast.  And  so  far  are  we  from  repressing 
this  kind  of  grief,  that  we  would  wish  you  to  feel  it  in  all  its  force. 
Go  to  the  tombs  of  the  dead  ;  open  their  coffins  ;  look  on  their 
remains  ;  let  each  there  recognize  a  husband,  or  a  parent,  or  chil- 
dren, or  brethren  ;  but  instead  of  regarding  them  as  surrounding 
him  alive,  let  him  suppose  himself  as  lodged  in  the  subterraneous 
abode  with  the  persons  to  whom  he  has  been  closely  united. 
Look  at  them  deliberately,  hear  what  they  say  :  death  seems  to 
have  condemned  him  to  an  eternal  silence  ;  meanwhile  they 
speak  ;  they  preach  with  a  voice  far  more  eloquent  than  ours. 

We  have  taught  you  to  shed  upon  their  tombs  tears  of  tender- 
ness. Hear  the  dead  ;  they  preach  with  a  voice  more  eloquent  than 
ours  :  "  Have  you  forgotten  the  relations  we  formed  and  the  ties 
that  united  us  ?  Is  it  with  games  and  diversions  that  you  lament 
our  loss  ?  Is  it  in  the  circles  of  gayety  and  in  public  places  that 
you  commemorate  our  exit  ?" 

We  have  exhorted  you  to  shed  upon  their  tomb  tears  of  duty  to 
yourselves.  "  Hear  the  dead  ;"  they  preach  with  a  voice  more 
eloquent  than  ours.  They  cry,  "  Vanity  of  vanities.  All  flesh  is 
grass,  and  all  the  godliness  thereof  is  as  the  flower  of  the  field. 
The  world  passeth  away,  and  the  lusts  thereof.  Surely  man 
walketh  in  a  vain  shadow."  (Eccles.  i.  2  ;  Isa.  xl.  6  ;  1  John  ii; 
17  ;  Ps.  xxxix.  6.)  They  recall  to  your  mind  the  afflictions  they 
have  endured,  the  troubles  which  assailed  their  mind,  and  the 
deliriums  that  affected  their  brain.      They  recall   those  objects, 


180  PULPIT  AND   GRAVE. 

that  you  may  contemplate  in  their  situation  an  image  of  your 
own  ;  that  you  may  be  apprised  how  imperfectly  qualified  a  man 
is  in  his  last  moments  for  recollection  and  the  work  of  his  salva- 
tion. They  tell  you  that  they  once  had  the  same  health,  the  same 
strength,  the  same  fortune,  and  the  same  honors  as  you  ;  notwith- 
standing, the  torrent  which  bore  them  away  is  doing  the  same  with 
you. 

We  have  exhorted  you  to  shed  upon  their  tombs  the  tears  of 
repentance.  Hear  the  dead  ;  they  preach  with  an  eloquence 
greater  than  ours  ;  they  say  that  ' '  sin  has  brought  death  into  the 
world — death  which  separates  the  father  from  the  son,  and  the 
son  from  the  father  ;  which  disunites  hearts  the  most  closely 
attached,  and  dissolves  the  most  intimate  and  tender  ties."  They 
say  more.  Hear  the  dead — hear  some  of  them,  who,  from  the 
abyss  of  eternal  flames,  into  which  they  are  plunged  for  impeni- 
tency,  exhort  you  to  repentance. 

O  terrific  preachers,  preachers  of  despair,  may  your  voice 
break  the  hearts  of  those  hearers  on  whom  our  ministry  is  destitute 
of  energy  and  effect.  Hear  those  dead  ;  they  speak  with  a  voice 
more  eloquent  than  ours  from  the  depths  of  the  abyss,  from  the 
deep  caverns  of  hell  ;  they  cry,  "  Who  among  us  shall  dwell  with 
devouring  fire  ?  Who  among  us  shall  dwell  with  everlasting  burn- 
ings ?  Ye  mountains,  fall  on  us  ;  ye  hills,  cover  us.  It  is  a  fear- 
ful thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God,  when  He  is 
angry."      (Isa.  xxxiii.  14  ;  Luke  xxiii.  30;  Heb.  x.  31.) 

Hear  the  father  who  is  suffering  in  hell  for  the  bad  education 
given  to  the  family  he  left  on  earth.  Hear  him,  by  the  despair  of 
his  condition,  by  the  chains  which  oppress  him,  by  the  fire 
which  devours  him,  and  by  the  remorse,  the  torments,  and  the 
anguish  which  gnaw  him,  entreat  you  not  to  follow  him  to  the 
abyss.  Hear  the  impure,  the  accomplice  of  your  pleasure,  who 
says  that  if  God  had  called  you  the  first,  you  would  have  been 
substituted  in  his  place,  and  who  entreats  to  let  your  eyes  become 
as  fountains  of  repentant  tears. 

This  is  the  sort  of  sorrow  with  which  we  should  be  affected  for 
the  death  of  those  with  whom  it  has  pleased  God  to  connect  us  by 
the  bonds  of  society  and  of  nature.  May  it  penetrate  our  hearts, 
and  forever  banish  the  sorrow  which  confounds  us  with  those  who 
have  no  hope. 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED. 


VICTORY   OVER   DEATH. 

BY  REV.    FREDERICK  W.    ROBERTSON,    BRIGHTON,    ENGLAND. 

The  sting  of  death  is  sin  ;  and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law.  But 
thanks  be  to  God,  which  giveth  us  the  victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ. — i  Corinthians  xv.  56,  57. 

I.   The  terrors  of  the  dying  hour. 

That  which  makes  it  peculiarly  terrible  to  die  is  asserted  here  to 
be  guilt.  It  is  not  the  only  sting  of  death,  but  it  contains  the 
venom  of  the  most  exquisite  torture.  It  is  no  mark  of  courage  to 
speak  lightly  of  dying.  There  is  a  world  of  untold  sensations 
crowded  into  that  moment  when  a  man  puts  his  hand  to  his  fore- 
head and  feels  the  damp  upon  it  which  tells  him  his  hour  is  come. 
He  has  been  looking  for  death  all  his  life,  and  now  it  is  come  ;  it 
is  all  over  ;  his  chance  is  past,  and  his  eternity  is  settled.  It  is  a 
mockery  to  speak  lightly  of  that  which  we  cannot  know  till  it 
comes. 

1.  Every  living  thing  instinctively  cleaves  to  its  own  existence.  It  is 
the  first  and  intensest  desire  of  living  things  to  be.  It  is  in  virtue 
of  this  unquenchable  impulse  that  the  world,  in  spite  of  all  the 
misery  that  is  in  it,  continues  to  struggle  on.  What  are  war  and 
trade  and  labor  and  professions  ?  Are  they  the  result  of  struggling 
to  be  great  ?  No  ;  they  are  the  result  of  the  struggle  to  be.  Re- 
duce the  nation  or  the  man  to  the  last  resources,  and  only  see 
what  marvellous  energy  of  contrivance  the  love  of  being  arms  them 
with.  Read  back  the  pauper's  history  at  the  end  of  seventy  years, 
and  learn  what  he  has  done  to  hold  his  being  where  everything  is 
against  him,  and  the  only  conceivable  charm  of  whose  existence 
is  that  it  is  existence.  Talk  as  we  will  of  immortality,  there  is  an 
obstinate  feeling  that  we  end  in  death  ;  and  that  may  be  fejt  to- 
gether with  the  firmest  belief  in  resurrection.  Our  faith  tells  us 
one  thing  ;  our  sensations,  another. 

2.  It  is  the  parting  from  all  around  which  are  twined  the  heart' s 
best  affections.  We  become  wedded  to  the  sights  and  sounds  of 
this  lovely  world  more  and  more  closely  as  years  go  on.  When 
Lot  quitted  Sodom,  the  younger  members  of  the  family  went  on 
gladly  ;  it  was  the  aged  one  who  looked  behind  to  the  home  which 


1 82  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

had  so  many  recollections  connected  with  it.  Every  time  the  sun 
sets,  every  time  the  old  man  sees  his  children  gathering  around 
him,  there  is  a  filling  of  the  eye  with  an  emotion  we  can  under- 
stand. 

3.  The  sensation  of  loneliness  attaches  to  death.  Have  we  ever  seen 
a  ship  preparing  to  sail,  with  its  load  of  pauper  emigrants,  to  a  dis- 
tant colony  ?  All  beyond  the  seas,  to  the  ignorant  poor  man  is  an 
unknown  land.  There  comes  upon  him  a  sensation  new  and 
inexpressibly  miserable — the  feeling  of  being  alone  in  the  world. 
So  we  go  on  our  dark,  mysterious  journey,  for  the  first  time  in  all 
our  existence,  without  one  to  accompany  us.  Friends  are  beside 
our  bed  :  they  must  stay  behind.  We  die  alone.  Grant  that  the 
Christian  has  something  like  a  familiarity  with  the  Most  High — 
that  breaks  this  solitary  feeling.  But  for  the  mass  of  men  there  is 
no  one  point  in  all  eternity  on  which  the  eye  can  fix  distinctly  and 
rest  gladly. 

4.  The  sling  0/  death  is  sin.  There  are  two  ways  in  which  this 
truth  applies  itself.  Some  carry  about  with  them  the  dreadful 
secret  of  certain  sin  that  has  been  committed,  guilt  that  has  a 
name.  They  have  injured  some  one,  made  money  by  unfair 
means,  been  unchaste,  or  done  some  one  of  the  thousand  things 
which  leave  a  dark  spot  upon  the  heart.  They  shut  them  out, 
but  it  will  not  do.  When  a  guilty  man  begins  to  think  of  dying, 
it  is  like  a  vision  of  the  Son  of  Man  calling  out  all  the  voices  of 
the  unclean  spirits  :  "  Art  thou  come  to  torment  us  before  the 
time  ?" 

But  with  most  men  it  is  not  guilty  acts,  but  guiltiness  of  heart 
that  weighs  the  heaviest.  It  is  just  this  feeling  :  "  God  is  not  my 
friend  ;  I  am  going  on  to  my  grave,  and  no  man  can  say  aught 
against  me,  but  my  heart  is  not  right.  It  is  not  so  much  what  I 
have  done  ;  it  is  what  I  am.  Who  shall  save  me  from  myself?" 
But  let  us  bear  in  mind  that  this  sting  of  sin  is  not  constant.  We 
may  live  many  years  before  a  death  in  our  family  forces  the 
thought  of  death  personally  home — many  years  before  the  quick, 
short  cough,  lassitude,  emaciation,  pain,  come  upon  us  in  our 
young  vigor  and  make  us  feel  what  it  is  to  be  here  with  death  in- 
evitable. And  when  these  symptoms  become  habitual,  habit 
makes  delicacy  the  same  forgetful  thing  as  health. 

The  Apostle  traces  this  power  of  sin  to  torment,  to  the  law. 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  183 

He  means  any  law  and  all  law.  Law  is  what  forbids  and 
threatens  ;  law  bears  gallingly  on  those  who  wish  to  break  it.  St, 
Paul  declares  that  no  law,  not  even  God's,  can  make  man 
righteous  in  heart.  It  can  only  force  out  into  rebellion  the  sin 
that  is  in  them.  It  is  so  with  a  nation's  law.  If  against  the 
spirit  of  the  whole  people,  there  is  first  the  murmur  of  disapproba- 
tion, then  transgression,  and  then  the  bursting  asunder  of  that 
law  in  national  revolution.  So  with  God's  law.  It  will  never 
long  control  a  man  who  does  not  love  it.  First  comes  the  sense 
of  constraint,  then  a  murmuring  of  the  heart,  and  last  the  rising 
of  passion  in  its  giant  might,  made  desperate  by  restraint.  That 
is  the  law  giving  strength  to  sin. 

II.   Faith  conquering  in  death. 

There  is  nothing  in  all  this  world  that  ever  led  a  man  on  to  real 
victory  but  faith.  Faith  is  that  looking  forward  to  a  future  with 
something  like  certainty,  that  raises  man  above  the  narrow  feel- 
ings of  the  present.  Even  in  this  life  he  who  is  steadily  pursuing 
a  plan  that  requires  some  years  to  accomplish,  is  a  man  of  more 
elevated  character  than  he  who  is  living  by  the  day.  And 
therefore  it  is  that  faith,  and  nothing  but  faith,  gives  victory  in 
death.  It  is  that  elevation  of  character  we  get  from  looking 
steadily  and  forever  forward  till  eternity  becomes  a  real  home  to  us  ; 
that  enables  us  to  look  upon  the  grave,  not  as  the  great  end  of 
all,  but  only  as  something  that  stands  between  us  and  the  end. 
We  are  conquerors  of  death  when  we  are  able  to  look  beyond  it. 

This  victory  is  to  be  through  Christ.  Mere  victory  over  death 
is  no  unearthly  thing.  Only  let  a  man  sin  desperately  and  long 
enough  to  shut  judgment  out  of  his  creed,  and  he  can  bid  defiance 
to  death.  An  infidel  may  be,  in  this  sense,  a  conqueror  over 
death.  Or  mere  manhood  may  give  us  a  victory.  We  have  steel 
and  nerve  enough  in  our  hearts  to  dare  anything.  Felons  die  on 
the  scaffold  like  men  ;  soldiers  can  be  hired  for  a  few  pence  a  day, 
to  front  death  everyday.  Then,  again,  necessity  makes  a  man  the 
conqueror.  When  a  man  feels  that  he  must  go,  he  lays  him 
down  to  die  as  a  tired  traveller  wraps  himself  in  his  cloak  to  sleep. 
But  the  Christian's  victory  over  death  is  different  from  all  these. 

1.  He  is  a  conqueror  over  doubt.  There  are  some  men  who  have 
never  believed  enough  to  doubt ;  some  who  have  never  thrown 
their  hopes  with  such  earnestness  on  the  world  to  come  as  to  feel 


184  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

any  anxiety  lor  fear  it  should  not  all  be  true.  But  every  one  who 
knows  what  faith  is  knows  too  what  the  desolation  of  doubt  is. 
We  pray  till  we  begin  to  ask,  Is  there  any  one  who  hears,  or  am 
I  whispering  to  myself  ?  We  hear  the  consolation  administered 
to  the  bereaved,  and  we  see  the  coffin  lowered  into  the  grave,  and 
the  thought  comes,  What  if  all  this  doctrine  of  a  life  to  come  be  but 
a  dream  of  man's  imaginative  mind,  carried  on  from  age  to  age, 
and  so  believed  because  it  is  a  venerable  superstition  ?  Now 
Christ  gives  us  victory  over  that  doubt  by  His  own  resurrection. 
The  grave  has  once,  and  more  than  once,  given  up  its  dead  at 
His  bidding.  It  is  a  world-fact  that  all  the  metaphysics  about  im- 
possibility cannot  rob  us  of.  It  means  that  we  shall  live  again. 
Then  we  get  the  victory  over  doubt  by  living  in  Christ.  All 
doubt  comes  from  living  out  of  habits  of  affectionate  obedience  to 
God.  By  idleness,  by  neglected  prayer,  we  lose  our  power  of 
realizing  things  not  seen.  Doubts  can  only  be  dispelled  by  that 
kind  of  active  life  that  realizes  Christ.  When  such  a  man  comes 
near  the  vault,  it  is  no  world  of  sorrows  he  is  entering.  He  is  only 
going  to  see  things  that  he  has  felt,  for  he  has  been  living  in 
heaven.  He  has  his  grasp  on  things  other  men  are  only  groping 
after,  and  touching  now  and  then. 

2.  He  is  a  conqueror  over  fear.  Let  us  understand  what  really 
is  the  victory  over  the  fear  of  death.  It  may  be  rapture,  or  it  may 
not.  That  depends  very  much  on  the  temperament  ;  and,  after 
all,  the  broken  words  of  a  dying  man  are  a  very  poor  index  of  his 
real  state  before  God.  Rapturous  hope  has  been  granted  to 
martyrs  in  peculiar  moments.  But  it  fosters  a  dangerous  feeling 
to  take  such  cases  as  precedents.  Christian  bravery  is  a  deep, 
calm  thing,  unconscious  of  itself.  There  are  more  triumphant 
death-beds  than  we  think,  if  we  only  remember  this  :  true  fearless- 
ness makes  no  parade.  Oh  !  it  is  not  only  in  those  passionate 
effusions  in  which  the  ancient  martyrs  spoke  sometimes  of  panting 
for  the  crushing  of  their  limbs  by  the  lions  in  the  amphitheatre,  or 
of  holding  out  their  arms  to  embrace  the  flames  that  were  to  curl 
around  them — it  is  not  then  only  that  Christ  has  stood  by  His  ser- 
vants and  made  them  more  than  conquerors.  There  may  be 
something  of  earthly  excitement  in  all  that.  Every  day  His  ser- 
vants are  dying  modestly  and  peacefully,  not  a  word  of  victory  on 
their  lips,  but  Christ's  deep  triumph  in  their  hearts,  watching  the 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  185 

slow  progress  of  their  decay,  yet  so  far  emancipated  from  personal 
anxiety  that  they  are  still  able  to  think  and  plan  for  others,  not 
knowing  that  they  are  doing  any  great  thing.  They  come  to  the 
battle-field  to  which  they  have  been  looking  forward  all  their 
lives,  and  there  is  no  foe  with  which  to  fight. 

3.  He  gains  the  victory  by  his  resurrection.  It  is  a  rhetorical 
expression  rather  than  sober  truth  when  we  call  anything  but  the 
resurrection  victory  over  death.  We  may  conquer  doubt  and  fear, 
but  that  is  not  conquering  dying.  It  is  like  a  warrior  crushed  to 
death  by  a  superior  antagonist,  refusing  to  yield  a  groan,  and 
bearing  the  glance  of  defiance  to  the  last.  And  when  you  see 
flesh  melting  away,  and  mental  power  becoming  infantine  in  its 
feebleness,  and  lips  scarcely  able  to  articulate,  is  there  left  for  a 
moment  a  doubt  as  to  who  is  the  conqueror  ? 

Bear  in  mind  what  this  world  would  be  without  the  thought  of 
a  resurrection.  If  we  could  conceive  an  unselfish  man  looking 
on  this  world  of  desolation  with  that  infinite  compassion  which 
all  the  brave  and  good  feel,  what  conception  could  he  have  but 
that  of  defeat,  failure — the  sons  of  man  mounting  into  a  bright 
existence,  and  one  after  another  falling  back  into  darkness  and 
nothingness,  like  soldiers  trying  to  mount  an  impracticable 
breach,  and  falling  back  crushed  and  mangled  into  the  ditch  be- 
fore the  bayonets  and  rattling  fire  of  their  conquerors.  Until  a 
man  looks  on  evil  till  it  seems  like  a  real  personal  enemy  rejoicing 
over  the  destruction  it  has  made,  he  can  scarcely  conceive  Paul's 
rapture  when  he  remembered  all  this  is  to  be  reversed,  when  this 
sad  world  is  to  put  off  forever  its  changefulness  and  misery,  the 
grave  is  to  be  robbed  of  its  victory,  and  the  bodies  are  to  come 
forth  purified  by  their  long  sleep.  One  battle  has  been  fought  by 
Christ,  and  another  battle,  most  real  and  difficult,  but  a  con- 
quering one,  is  to  be  fought  by  us. 


1 86  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

THE   CHRISTIAN'S   FINAL  TRIUMPH. 

BY  GEORGE  W.  BETHUNE,  D.D. ,  BROOKLYN. 

0  death,  where  is  thy  sting ?  0 grave,  where  is  thy  victory?  The  sting 
of  death  is  sin  ;  and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law  ;  but  thanks  be  to  God, 
which  givelh  its  the  victory  through  our  Lord  fesus  Christ. — i  Cor.  xv. 
55-57- 

I.   The  Challenge. 

i.  Where  is  the  sting  of  death  P  Alas  !  and  is  it  nothing  to  die  ? 
Is  it  nothing  to  leave  this  fair  earth,  our  pleasant  homes,  our 
loving  friends,  and  become  as  dust  beneath  the  sod,  and  under  the 
gloomy  cypresses  ?  Is  it  nothing  to  have  the  sad  certainty  before  us 
at  all  times,  in  the  midst  of  our  best  successes,  that  the  hour  is 
coming  when  the  cold,  ignominious  grave  shall  hide  us  from  them 
all  ?  That  our  plans  of  ambition,  gain,  knowledge,  service  to 
those  who  are  dear,  zeal  for  our  country  and  for  the  welfare  of 
mankind,  must  be  broken  off,  and  the  brain  which  projected,  the 
hand  which  wrought,  the  heart  which  beat  strong,  must  become 
still  as  the  clod,  and  the  luxury  of  worms  ?  Is  it  nothing  that  the 
first  tottering  step  of  the  child,  the  spring  of  youth,  the  firm  tread  of 
adult  vigor,  and  the  halt  of  the  old  man  leaning  on  his  staff,  are 
to  the  same  vile  end  ?  Is  it  nothing  that  the  blood  shall  be  chilled 
at  its  fountain,  the  clammy  sweat-drops  start  out  on  the  forehead, 
the  breath  come  slowly  and  in  agony,  and  the  life,  clinging 
desperately,  be  torn  away  and  cast  forth  by  fierce  convulsion  ? 
Has  death  no  sting  when  we  hold  the  beloved,  who  made  life 
precious  and  the  world  beautiful,  by  so  frail  a  tenure  ?  Has  it  no 
sting  for  the  yearning  bosom  from  which  the  little  one  has  been 
taken,  never  again  to  nestle  sweetly  there  ?  Has  it  no  sting  in  that 
"  life-long  pang  a  widowed  spirit  bears  ?"  Has  it  no  sting  when 
we  follow  the  good  man,  the  generous,  the  just,  the  friend  of  the 
sorrowful  and  the  poor,  the  champion  of  the  weak,  to  his  last 
resting-place  ?  No  sting  in  death  !  Is  there  one  among  us  such 
a  miracle  of  uninterrupted  happiness,  so  insensible  to  others'  grief, 
as  not  to  have  felt  its  keen  and  lingering  sharpness  ? 

2.  Where  is  the  victory  of  the  grave  P  Where  is  it  not  ?  The 
kings  of  the  earth  lie  in  ' '  the  desolate  places  they  built  for  them- 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  187 

selves."  Riches  can  purchase  no  allies  skilful  to  avert  the  blow. 
Obscurity  affords  us  no  refuge.  The  slave  falls  by  the  side  of  the 
master,  and  the  beggar  is  slain  by  the  wayside.  What  conqueror 
is  so  mighty,  when  all  conquerors  fight  in  its  battles  and  then  bow 
themselves  in  death  with  their  victims  ?  The  track  of  its  march  is 
cumbered  with  the  wreck  of  fairest  symmetry  and  beauty  and 
vigor.  The  generations  of  past  ages  are  all  crumbled  into  dust  ; 
all  the  living  are  following  in  one  vast  funeral  ;  all  posterity  shall 
follow  us.  Were  all  the  cries  of  those  who  have  perished,  and  the 
shrieks  of  the  bereaved  over  their  dead  crowded  into  one,  the 
shriek  would  shake  the  earth  to  its  centre.  Where  is  the  victory 
of  the  grave  ?  The  silence  of  the  dead,  the  anguish  of  the  sur- 
viving, the  mortality  of  all  that  shall  be  born  of  mortals,  confess  it 
to  be  universal. 

Yet  were  there  nothing  but  this,  the  calamity  would  be  light, 
A  few  tears,  a  sharp  pang,  and  all  would  be  over.  We  should 
sleep,  and  dream  not.  But  there  is  more  than  this.  How  came 
there  to  be  graves  upon  this  decorated  earth,  which  God  looked 
down  upon  and  pronounced  good  ?  My  fellow-children  of  the 
dust,  God  is  angry  with  us.  God  has  armed  death  and  sent  him 
forth,  the  executioner  of  a  divine  sentence,  the  avenger  of  a  broken 
law.  The  victory  of  the  grave  is  the  victory  of  justice  over  re- 
bellion. Here  is  the  sharpness  of  death's  sting.  It  is  the  evi- 
dence and  punishment  of  sin.  It  is  the  lowering  darkness  of  the 
storm  of  wrath  which  is  eternal.  The  bitterness  of  death  is  that, 
pleasant  as  sins  may  be  now,  death  will  soon  and  surely  come, 
and  after  death  the  judgment,  when  every  sin  shall  find  us  out, 
and  the  sinner  shall  stand  with  no  excuse,  or  plea,  or  refuge  ;  and 
after  the  judgment,  eternal  woe  for  all  the  condemned.  Here  we 
see  the  Apostle's  boldness,  the  valor  of  Christian  faith.  For 
knowing  he  must  surely  die  and  the  grave  cover  him,  he  stands 
up  bravely  and  flings  defiance  in  its  face. 

II.   The  Thanksgiving. 

1.  Whence  is  our  victory  r>  God  gives  death  its  sting,  the  grave 
its  victory.  So  long  as  He  arms  and  strengthens  them,  it  is  im- 
possible to  resist  them.  He  alone  can  give  us  the  victory  by  be- 
coming our  friend.  Then  His  ministers,  which  were  our 
enemies,  must  be  our  friends. 

2.  How  is  the  victory  given  P     Will   the  sting  still  remain  with 


1 88  PULPIT  AND   GRAVE. 

death,  or  strength  with  the  grave  ?  Will  God  still  arm  the  be- 
liever's enemies  and  yet  fight  for  him  ?  Will  mercy  deliver  the 
sinner  whom  justice  holds  bound  ?  Does  sin  cease  to  be  guilty  or 
law  to  lose  its  force  ?  Hear  the  Apostle  :  "  Thanks  be  to  God, 
which  giveth  us  the  victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. ' '  For 
this  the  Son  of  God  became  incarnate,  that,  as  man,  in  the  place 
of  man  the  sinner,  He  might  be  capable  of  suffering  the  penalty 
of  the  law,  which  is  death.  He  became  man  that  He  might 
suffer  ;  He  died  that  man  might  live.  He  stood  forth  in  our 
stead  to  answer  all  the  demands  of  the  law  ;  and  the  sovereign 
Lawgiver  accepted  the  Substitute,  and  laid  upon  Him  the  in- 
iquity of  us  all.  More  than  this,  He  demonstrated  His  victory 
over  the  grave.  For  though  He  was  buried,  and  the  grave  and 
the  powers  of  darkness  struggled  mightily  to  hold  Him  fast,  He 
dragged  them  forth,  captivity  captive,  openly  triumphing.  But 
the  full  manifestation  of  His  triumph  and  ours  is  kept  for  that 
day  when  the  voice  of  the  archangel  and  the  trump  of  God  shall 
proclaim  His  final  coming  to  judgment,  and  all  the  dead,  the 
countless  dead,  shall  start  to  life.  Thus  will  God  vindicate  His 
conquest  over  death  and  the  grave,  by  compelling  them  to  give 
liberty  to  the  bodies  of  the  redeemed. 

3.  Wherein  does  our  victory  consist  ?  The  believer  triumphs  in 
Christ's  perfect  atonement.  By  faith  he  obeys  in  Christ,  walks 
with  Christ  in  His  holy  life,  and  through  Christ  honors  the  divine 
law  which  before  he  had  broken.  By  faith  he  is  crucified  with 
Christ  (Gal.  ii.  20).  Death  with  its  precursors,  pain  and  infirmity, 
remains  ;  but  their  mastery  over  him  exists  no  longer.  Pain  and 
sickness  are  now  God's  faithful  chastenings,  and  death  is  no  more 
death,  but  life  eternal. 

The  believer  triumphs  in  Christ's  resurrection.  "  I  am  crucified 
in  Christ,  nevertheless  I  live,  yet  not  I,  but  Christ  liveth  in  me." 
For  this  is  the  office  and  power  of  Christ  to  give  eternal  life  to  as 
many  as  receive  Him  ;  and  this  is  the  privilege  of  the  Christian 
even  while  on  earth,  to  have  his  conversation  in  heaven.  Death 
has  lost  its  power  to  divide  him  from  God.  He  soars  upon  the 
wings  of  faith  far  above  the  gloomy  barrier,  enters  the  company  of 
the  Church  of  the  first-born,  and  listens  to  the  harpings  of  in- 
numerable angels.  Is  not  this  a  victory  over  death  and  the 
grave  ? 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  189 

The  believer  triumphs  in  the  final  resurrection.  Christ  not  only 
arose,  but  ascended  on  high.  There  the  body  which  was  here  bent 
by  sorrow  has  been  made  glorious  in  divine  beauty  ;  and  the  coun- 
tenance here  channeled  by  tears,  buffeted  and  spit  upon,  is  alto- 
gether lovely,  its  smile  the  fairest  light  of  heaven  ;  and  heaven 
rolls  up  its  waves  of  hallelujahs  at  His  feet,  in  which  the  print  of 
the  nails  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  cross.  As  the  Redeemer 
is  glorified  in  His  flesh,  so  shall  the  believer  be  raised  up  to  glory. 
What  then  to  him  whose  faith  can  grasp  things  unseen,  are  all  the 
passing  ignominies,  and  pangs,  and  insults,  which  now  afflict 
him  ?  Every  revolution  of  the  earth  rolls  on  to  that  fulness  of 
adoption  "  when  this  mortal  shall  put  on  immortality." 

"  Thanks  be  to  God,  who  giveth  us  the  victory  !"  And 
who  are  included  in  that  ?  "  Not  to  me  only,"  says  the  Apostle, 
"  but  unto  all  them  also  who  love  His  appearing'-  (2  Tim.  iv.  8). 
Ye  shall  share  it,  ancient  believers,  who  from  Adam  to  Christ  wor- 
shipped by  figure  and  under  the  shadow.  Ye  shall  share  it,  ye 
prophets,  who  wondered  at  the  mysterious  promises  of  glory  fol- 
lowing suffering.  Ye  shall  share  it,  ye  mighty  apostles,  though 
ye  doubted  when  ye  heard  of  the  broken  tomb.  Ye  martyrs, 
whose  howling  enemies  execrated  you,  as  they  slew  you  by  sword 
and  cross,  and  famine  and  rack,  and  wild  beast  and  flame.  And 
ye,  God's  humble  poor,  whom  men  despised,  but  of  whom  the 
world  was  not  worthy.  God's  angels  are  watching,  as  they 
watched  the  sepulchre  in  the  garden,  over  your  obscure  graves, 
keeping  your  sacred  dust  till  the  morning  break,  when  it  shall  be 
crowned  with  princely  splendor.  Yes,  thou  weak  one,  who  yet 
hast  strength  to  embrace  thy  Master's  cross  ;  thou  sorrowing  one, 
whose  tears  fall  like  rain  over  the  grave  of  thy  beloved  ;  thou 
tempted  one,  who,  through  much  tribulation,  art  struggling  on  to 
the  Kingdom  of  God — ye  all  shall  be  there,  and  ten  thousand 
times  ten  thousand  more.  Hark  !  the  trumpet  !  The  earth 
groans  and  rocks  herself  as  if  in  travail  !  They  rise,  the  sheeted 
dead,  but  how  lustrously  white  are  their  garments  !  How  dazzling 
their  beautiful  holiness  !  What  a  mighty  host  !  They  fill  the 
air  ;  they  acclaim  hallelujahs  ;  the  heavens  bend  with  shouts  of 
harmony  ;  the  Lord  comes  down,  and  His  angels  are  about  Him. 
He  owns  His  chosen,  and  they  rise  to  meet  Him,  and  they  mingle 
with  cherubim  and   seraphim,  and  the  shoutings  are  like  thun- 


190  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

ders  from  the  throne  of  God — thunderings  of  joy:  "0  death, 
where  is  thy  sting  ?  O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?  Thanks  be 
to  God,  whogiveth  us  the  victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ !" 

Christians,  death  is  before  us.  The  graves  are  thick  around  us. 
I  do  not  say,  suffer  not  :  Jesus  suffered.  But  suffer  like  men 
valiant  in  battle,  whose  wounds  are  incentives  to  new  valor, 
earnests  of  future  honor. 

I  do  not  say,  weep  not  :  Jesus  wept.  But  sorrow  not  for  the 
Christian  dead.  They  are  safe  and  blest.  Weep  for  the  sins  that 
unfit  you  to  follow  them. 

I  do  not  say,  shudder  not  :  Jesus  trembled  when  He  took  the 
cup  into  his  hand,  dropping  with  bloody  sweat.  But  I  do  say, 
fear  not.  Now  it  is  your  duty  to  live.  When  death  comes,  you 
shall  have  grace  to  die.  But  oh  !  be  sure  you  are  in  Christ ;  that 
you  are  covered  by  His  atonement.  Then  may  you  be  sure  of 
the  victory. 

But  Oh  !  my  God,  what  shall  I  say  to  those  who  have  no  faith 
in  thee,  no  repentance,  no  consideration  ?  They  are  going  down 
to  death  and  the  grave,  yet  they  live  and  laugh  on  as  though  they 
were  to  live  here  forever.  How  shall  I  tell  them  of  the  sting  of 
death — of  eternal  death  ?  Of  the  victory  of  the  grave — the  grave 
of  everlasting  fire  ?  Speak  thou  to  them,  O  Holy  Spirit !  Turn 
them,  draw  them,  compel  them  to  come  under  the  wings  of  thy 
pardoning  love. 


THE   CHARACTER   AND   DEATH   OF  WASHINGTON 

IRVING. 

BY   JOHN    A.    TODD,    D.  D. ,   TARRYTOWN,    N.   Y. 

For  behold  the  Lord,  the  Lord  of  hosts,  doth  take  aiuay  from  Jerusalem  and 
from  Judah  the  stay  and  staff,  the  whole  stay  of  bread,  and  the  whole  stay  of 
water,  the  mighty  man,  and  the  man  of  war,  the  judge,  and  the  prophet,  and 
the  prudent  and  the  ancient,  the  captain  of  fifty,  and  the  honorable  man,  and 
the  counsellor,  and  the  cunning  artificer,  and  the  eloquent  orator. — Isaiah 
iii.  1-3- 

The  prophet  does  not  allow  the  thoughts  of  those  he  is  ad- 
dressing to  rest  upon  the  Chaldeans  as  the  primary  cause  of  the 
events  he  predicts  ;  but  he  leads  their  contemplations  upward  and 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  191 

onward  along  the  narrow  channel  through  which  the  divine 
energy  rolled  forward  to  its  effect,  until  they  find  themselves  in  the 
presence  of  the  Lord  Jehovah  Himself.  In  the  preceding  chapter 
the  people  had  been  called  upon  "  to  cease  from  man,  whose 
breath  is  in  his  nostrils," — that  is,  to  cease  from  reposing  their 
trust  in  any  human  protection.  And  in  the  text  is  presented  the 
argument  by  which  the  prophet  sought  to  persuade  them  into 
compliance.  Thus  does  he  teach  them  that  there  is  a  Power 
above  all  human  power,  upon  which  they  are  dependent,  and  in 
which  they  ought  to  put  their  trust  ;  that  man,  whatever  may  be 
his  prowess  in  battle  or  his  wisdom  in  counsel,  whatever  may  be 
the  resistless  enchantment  of  his  genius,  whether  revealed  in 
thoughts  transferred  to  the  written  page  or  breathed  by  the  living 
voice  in  tones  of  eloquence — that  man  is  after  all  but  a  creature, 
whose  breath  is  in  his  nostrils,  and  whose  heart  is  exposed  to  the 
shafts  of  death. 

But  your  thoughts,  my  hearers,  have  already  outstripped  my 
words,  and  gathered  in  solemn  silence  around  the  event  which  has 
cast  a  shadow  of  gloom  over  the  whole  nation,  and  especially  upon 
this  community.  Not  that  death  is  unfamiliar  to  our  minds. 
Every  day,  and  often  in  many  places  at  one  and  the  same  mo- 
ment, is  death  exerting  his  solemn  power  upon  the  race  of  man. 
But  when  the  men  who  walk  upon  the  loftier  heights  of  place  and 
power  are  laid  prostrate,  the  event  impresses  itself  more  vividly 
upon  the  minds  of  men  and  calls  forth  a  profounder  sentiment  of 
sorrow.  I  know  not  what  may  be  done  or  spoken  elsewhere  of 
the  illustrious  and  beloved  citizen  whom  we  were  so  proud  to  call 
our  friend  and  neighbor  ;  but  I  cannot  believe  that  you  are  will- 
ing that  his  dust  should  be  laid  in  the  tomb  without  some  words 
of  heartfelt  sorrow,  some  expressions  of  love  and  reverence,  some 
offerings  of  praise  to  God  for  the  gifts  with  which  He  was  pleased 
to  endow  him.  His  name  is  to  be  revered  and  cherished.  Its 
glory  shines  upon  our  country's  annals.  A  country's  glory  is  the 
collected  glory  of  her  great  men,. and  it  is  right  they  should  have 
their  monuments  not  merely  in  the  mute  and  icy  marble,  but  in 
the  warm,  living  hearts  of  all  her  sons.  When  we  thus  give  our 
offerings  of  love  and  admiration  to  that  which  God  has  made  so 
fair,  so  wonderful  in  capacity,  we  praise  God  in  His  works,  and 
glorify  His  infinite  skill.     It  is  a  solemn  event  when  God  removes 


192 


PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 


from  a  nation  the  mind  He  has  most  highly  endowed.  Insensible 
must  be  the  heart  that  fails  to  receive,  with  reverent  humility,  the 
lessons  such  an  event  is  designed  to  teach. 

Washington  Irving — the  patriarch  of  American  literature,  the 
accomplished  scholar,  the  admirable  historian,  the  elegant  writer, 
the  wonderful  magician,  who  evoked  from  the  realms  of  thought 
the  spirit  of  romance  and  beauty,  and  breathed  it  upon  every  hill 
and  valley,  upon  every  shady  retreat,  upon  every  wandering  brook, 
ay,  upon  the  very  air  that  fans  the  summer  verdure,  or  whistles 
through  the  wintry  wood  around  us  ;  the  pure  patriot,  the  diplo- 
matist, watchful  of  his  country's  honor,  yet  skilful  in  the  arts  of 
preserving  peace  ;  the  kind  neighbor,  the  faithful  friend  ;  and, 
what  is  better  than  all,  the  sincere  disciple  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
—  Washington  Irving  is  dead.  Dead,  did  I  say  ?  No  !  He  has 
just  begun  to  live.  God  has  given  to  him  a  twofold  life — the  life 
eternal  of  the  glorified  in  heaven,  and  the  life  of  an  undying 
memory  in  the  hearts  of  men. 

Born  in  New  York,  April  3d,  1783,  and  dying  in  his  quiet 
home  on  the  Hudson,  November  28th,  1859,  he  received  the  ful- 
filment of  the  promise,  "  Thou  shalt  come  to  thy  grave  in  a  full 
age,  like  as  a  shock  of  corn  cometh  in  his  season. ' '  The  record 
of  his  life  has  been  carried  to  the  remotest  corners  of  the  civilized 
world.  It  is  enough  to  say  that,  beginning  his  literary  career  at 
the  age  of  nineteen,  and  sending  forth  the  first  of  his  principal 
works  at  the  age  of  twenty-six,  his  progress  to  the  end  was  but  the 
continued  repetition  of  success.      Of  him  it  may  be  said, 

"  He  kept  Victory  on  the  run, 
Till  Fame  was  out  of  breath." 

His  last  and  perhaps  greatest  work,  the  "Life  of  Washington," 
was  completed  but  a  few  months  before  his  death,  and  as  long  as 
the  English  language  shall  express  the  thoughts  of  men,  that  work 
will  perpetuate  the  names  of  George  Washington  and  Washington 
Irving.  To  him  we  can  apply  the  sentiment  which,  it  has  been 
affirmed,  applied  to  none  but  Milton,  that  "  he  was  the  only 
man  who  ever  eclipsed  his  own  fame  by  a  higher  and  brighter 
noon  ;  who,  after  winning  an  immortality  for  his  youth,  gave  it 
back  to  oblivion  by  the  achievements  of  his  age. 

But  he  was  something  more  than  the  man  of  genius.     Honored 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  193 

as  he  was  the  world  over,  he  was  yet  loved  as  well.  The  one 
word  which  expresses  his  character  as  a  man  is  the  word  peace. 
For  the  struggle  of  intellectual  warfare  he  had  no  taste.  On  more 
than  one  occasion,  when  questions  of  ecclesiastical  order  or  subjects 
of  a  kindred  nature  were  debated,  he  has  interposed,  saying  :  "  Let 
us  live  in  love.  We  are  all  striving  for  the  same  object  and  going 
to  the  same  place  of  rest  ;  and  why  should  there  be  contentions  by 
the  way  ?"  He  had  a  broad  and  catholic  spirit,  which  he  mani- 
fested not  only  in  words,  but  in  deeds.  In  quiet  simplicity,  with 
a  heart  overflowing  with  kindness  toward  all  men,  and  filled  with 
humility  before  God,  with  a  mild  and  amiable  nature  rendered 
more  lovehy  by  the-  religion  of  Jesus  Christ,  which  he  firmly  be- 
lieved and  consistently  professed,  he  passed  his  days  among  us  till 
they  closed  with  the  closing  year.  It  is  delightful  to  think  that 
the  same  Providence  which  smiled  upon  his  life  gave  to  the  time  of 
his  death  the  placid  beauty  of  unclouded  skies,  the  brightness  of 
warm  and  golden  sunshine.  It  is  more  delightful  to  think  of  the 
love  and  veneration  that  swelled  the  hearts  of  the  thousands  con- 
gregated to  pay  homage  to  his  genius  and  worth.  But  it  is  most 
delightful  to  think  that  the  patriarch's  work  was  done,  and  he  was 
waiting  for  the  call  of  the  blessed  Master.  We  have  nothing,  my 
friends,  to  mourn  but  our  own  loss. 

And  now,  what  are  the  lessons  we  are  to  learn  from  this  solemn 
dispensation  ?  Is  not  God  teaching  us  individually,  and  as  a 
nation,  that  every  earthly  staff  is  frail  at  best  ?  One  by  one  the 
great  lights  of  a  nation  are  extinguished  by  death.  Who  shall 
fight  the  battles,  stand  at  the  helm  of  government,  record  the 
march  of  history,  sing  the  song  of  joy,  chant  the  dirge  of  sorrow, 
explore  the  mysteries  of  science,  defend  the  cause  of  truth  and 
righteousness,  and  plead  with  men  in  the  accents  of  persuasion,  and 
with  God  in  the  accents  of  prayer  ?  Ah  !  we  know  that  none  but 
God  can  give  the  arms  of  strength,  the  hearts  of  courage,  the  in- 
tellects of  power.  Let  us,  therefore,  take  refuge  in  Him,  and 
pray  that  our  whole  country  may  go  with  us,  and  then  "  the  place 
of  her  defence  shall  be  the  munitions  of  rocks." 

Let  me  entreat  you  also  to  be  admonished  that  life  is  short  and 
death  is  certain.  Rank,  wealth,  learning,  genius — they  are  all 
nothing  to  the  stern  regard  of  death.  True,  death  does  some- 
times come  in  the  vesture  of  friendship  and  gladness,  and  smile 


1 94  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

upon  the  suffering,  the  heart-broken,  and  the  weary  ;  but  oftener 
far  does  he  come  to  men  in  stern  and  appalling  aspect.  When 
the  bud  of  enterprise  is  unfolding  itself  into  the  flower  of  success  ; 
when  hope  stands  with  sparkling  eye  to  greet  the  approaching  ful- 
filment ;  when  victory,  like  an  eagle,  comes  sailing  down  the 
heavens  to  perch  upon  the  banner  that  has  been  upborne  with 
heroic  courage  through  a  long  and  weary  struggle — then,  then, 
suddenly  there  is  a  flash  like  a  bolt  from  heaven,  and  the  noontide 
brightness  is  changed  to  midnight  gloom.  The  man  is  dead. 
His  hands  are  folded  across  his  icy  breast.  Oh  !  how  true  are 
those  words  which  burst  from  the  agonized  heart  of  Edmund 
Burke  when  he  contemplated  the  death  of  his  only  son  :  "  What 
shadows  we  are,  and  what  shadows  we  pursue  !" 

To-day,  then,  with  the  vision  of  a  new-made  grave  before  you, 
let  me  come  to  you  in  the  name  of  Christ,  with  the  offer  of  ever- 
lasting life.  He  gives  freely,  abundantly.  Oh  !  love  Him,  trust 
Him,  follow  Him.  Then,  when  the  spirit  is  about  to  depart  from 
the  falling  tabernacle  of  the  body,  it  may  pour  itself  into  that 
triumphant  shout  of  God's  redeemed  :  "  O  death  !  where  is  thy 
sting  ?     O  grave  !  where  is  thy  victory  ?' ' 


THE   SPEED   OF   LIFE   IMPRESSING   PROBATION. 

BY   TRYON    EDWARDS,   D.  D. ,   NEW  LONDON,   CONN. 

0  Lord,  by  these  things  men  live,  and  in  all  these  things  is  the  life  of  my 
spirit. — Isaiah  xxxviii.  16. 

These  are  the  words  of  Hezekiah  after  his  miraculous  restoration 
from  sickness,  when  the  fifteen  years  had  been  added  to  his  life. 
Going  back  in  imagination  to  the  hours  of  suffering,  he  cries 
out  :  "  In  the  cutting  off  of  my  days  I  shall  go  to  the  gates  of 
the  grave,  and  be  deprived  of  the  residue  of  my  years.  No  more 
shall  I  see  God  in  the  land  of  the  living  ;  I  shall  behold  no  more 
the  inhabitants  of  the  world.  Mine  earthly  dwelling  is  plucked 
up  and  removed  from  me  as  a  shepherd's  tent ;  and  my  life  is  cut 
off  as  a  weaver's  thread.  He  is  wearing  me  away  with  pining 
sickness  ;  from  morning  to  night  he  is  making  an  end  of  me 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  195 

Mine  eyes  fail  with  looking  upward.  O  Lord,  I  am  oppressed  ;  I 
am  weighed  down  with  my  sorrows.  Do  thou — 0  do  thou  under- 
take forme."*  And  when  his  prayer  is  answered  and  he  learns  that 
he  shall  still  live  for  fifteen  years,  he  turns  from  a  plaintive  to  a 
joyous  strain.  Then  passing  in  thought  from  the  divine  healings 
to  their  intended  spiritual  influence,  he  utters  the  words  of  our 
text.  That  our  afflictions  are  intended  for  spiritual  profit,  every 
Christian  has  felt.  But  Hezekiah's  thought  seems  chiefly,  not  of 
his  afflictions,  but  of  the  brevity  of  his  days  which  they  emphasize. 
In  endeavoring  to  illustrate  this  thought,  notice — 

I.   The  fact  that  life  is  fast  speeding  away. 

Every  one  has  felt  with  Hezekiah  that  he  is  going  to  the  gates 
of  the  grave  ;  or,  with  Moses,  that  he  is  carried  away  as  with  a 
flood  ;  or,  with  Job,  that  his  days  are  swifter  than  the  weaver's 
shuttle.  In  early  youth,  as  we  looked  onward  to  the  future,  time 
did  indeed  seem  long.  But  the  longer  we  live,  the  swifter  appears 
its  flight.  The  time  when  you  were  but  a  child  engaging  in 
childish  sports  ;  when  you  entered  on  the  instructions  of  school  ; 
when  you  lost  a  father  or  mother  ;  when  you  left  the  dear  home 
of  childhood  to  engage  in  active  life  ;  when  this  joy  first  lightened 
your  days  or  that  sorrow  first  shadowed  your  path — does  it  not  seem 
but  a  moment  since  that  time  was  passing  ?  Where  once  you 
were  busy  with  the  prattle  of  childhood,  it  may  have  been  exchanged 
for  the  hopes  of  youth.  Where  you  were  buoyant  with  the  hopes 
of  youth,  these  may  have  given  place  to  the  anxieties  of  opening 
manhood.  Where  you  were  exultant  in  the  vigor  of  manhood, 
the  feeble  step  and  furrowed  cheek  may  have  taken  its  place. 
And  where  once  the  laugh  rang  loudly  from  your  lips,  the  sobered, 
perhaps  saddened,  smile  may  now  slowly  creep,  while  the  hoary 
head,  the  stiffened  limbs,  and  feebler  pulse  are  whispering  of  the 
narrow  house  1 

And  yet,  whether  joy  has  brightened  your  onward  course  or 
sorrow  been  doing  its  wearing  work  upon  your  heart,  swift  and  still 
swifter  has  been  the  flight  of  the  hours.  Other  wings  may  weary 
and  droop  in  their  course,  but  the  wings  of  time,  with  their  calm, 
steady  beat,  seem  but  to  gather  strength  with  exertion  and  to  bear 
us  with  a  mightier  sweep  the  nearer  we  are  to  eternity.  This,  I 
believe,  is  the  experience  of  every  one  who  is  thoughtful. 

*  Paraphrased  from  the  Hebrew. 


196  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

II.   It  deeply  impresses  our  probation. 

The  speed  of  life  is  not  needed  to  establish  the  fact  of  our  pro- 
bation, for  it  is  written,  as  with  the  finger  of  God  and  in  letters  of 
fire,  on  all  the  arrangements  of  our  earthly  state,  and  is  clearly 
revealed  in  Holy  Writ.  But  there  are  few  things  that  more  strongly 
impress  it  on  the  thoughtful  mind  than  the  speed  of  time,  and 
this  because, 

1 .  It  rarely  allows  us  to  complete  the  plans  in  which  we  are  en- 
gaged. We  are  torn  from  object  after  object  and  from  plan  after 
plan,  by  the  rapid  flight  of  time,  leaving  them,  like  structures  we 
may  build  in  dreams,  unfinished  in  reality.  Who  has  not  felt 
that 

"  To  will  is  ours,  but  not  to  execute. 
We  map  our  future  like  some  unknown  coast, 
And  say,  Here  is  a  harbor,  there  a  rock. 
The  one  we  will  attain,  the  other  shun  ! 
And  we  do  neither  !     Some  chance  gale  springs  up. 
And  bears  us  far  o'er  some  unfathomed  sea. 
Our  efforts  all  are  vain  ;  at  length  we  yield 
To  winds  and  waves  that  laugh  at  man's  control. 
.     .     .     Upon  each  beckoning  scheme 
No  sooner  do  we  fix  our  hope,  than  still 
Time  bears  us  on,  leaving  each  still  undone, 
Adjourned  forever  !" 

2.  By  the  rapidity  of  'its flight  it  keeps  us  always  in  effort.  Not 
only  are  we  allowed  to  complete  few,  if  any,  of  our  schemes,  but 
we  are  forced  to  constant  labor  to  effect  even  the  little  we  actually 
do.  "All  things,"  says  Solomon,  "are  full  of  labor."  But 
this  ever-living  struggle  would  not  be  ours  were  it  not  for  the  speed 
of  life,  which  compels  us  to  be  constantly  active  if  we  would  save 
even  the  least  of  time's  floating  treasures  from  the  rolling  flood. 

3.  //  gathers  more  thickly  about  us  the  changes  and  trials  and 
admonitions  of  life.  If  the  changes  of  the  world  were  the  incidents 
only  of  centuries  ;  if  the  trials  and  sorrows  of  our  short  life  were 
spread  out  over  thousands  of  years  ;  if  warnings  and  startling 
providences  burst  upon  us  like  the  explosions  of  long  buried 
volcanoes,  only  at  intervals  of  ages  ;  if  friends  were  cut  down  and 
graves  were  opened  only  at  long  distant  periods,  easily  might  we 
forget  our  probation,  rarely  feeling  its  discipline. 

4.  //  so  soon  hurries  us  away  from  earthly  scenes,  and  while  in  full 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  197 

vigor  of  all  our  powers.  How  often  is  the  statesman  cast  down  in 
the  full  maturity  of  his  talents  and  influence  ;  and  the  man  of 
business  just  as  he  is  qualified  by  long  success  to  enter  on  the 
largest  plans  ;  and  the  Christian  minister  just  when  with  polished 
intellect  and  ripened  piety  he  promises  richly  to  serve  his  genera- 
tion !  The  votaries  of  honor,  the  servants  of  usefulness,  the  idols 
of  affection,  are  cast  down,  and  those  who  stand  as  pillars  of  the 
state  totter  and  fall  in  their  full  strength.  And  thus  we  are  pointed 
to  another  state  where  all  these  faculties  shall  tell  on  endless  duties 
and  results  in  the  paradise  of  God. 

III.  Application. 

Considering  the  subject  further,  a  few  more  reflections  arise. 

1.  The  speed  of  life  should  admonish  us  of  our  coming  retribution . 
Every  day  that  passes,  every  beating  pulse,  and  heaving  breath, 
and  ticking  moment  should  be  speaking  to  us  of  those  endless 
states  of  joy  or  woe  on  which  so  soon  we  must  enter.  And  so 
with  every  unfinished  plan,  and  toiling  effort,  and  passing 
change  :  every  one  of  them,  as  the  commissioned  messenger  of 
God,  should  speak  to  us  of  eternity  and  its  results,  leading  us, 
at  every  hour,  to  live  as  though  it  might  be  the  very  crisis  of  our 
existence.  Every  one  of  us  on  earth  is  doing  an  amazing  work, 
and  its  final  results  in  eternity  will  be  of  our  own  procuring.  In 
all  that  work,  it  is  true,  God  shows  us  our  position,  surrounds 
us  with  motives,  and  offers  us  His  truth,  His  sympathy,  and  the 
aid  of  His  Holy  Spirit.  But  there  He  leaves  us.  The  work  is 
ours,  and  He  will  not  perform  it.  The  warfare  is  ours,  and  only 
we  can  fight  it.  The  seed  we  now  sow  we  are  sure  to  reap,  and 
to  ourselves  He  is  leaving  whether  it  shall  be  a  harvest  of  glory  or 
of  death. 

2.  The  speed  of  life  should  lead  each  one  of  us  seriously  and  habitually 
to  prepare  for  death.  The  whole  of  probation  is  the  season  of  prepara- 
tion for  retribution,  and  what  is  to  follow  death  depends,  not  on  the 
act  of  dying,  but  on  the  life  lived  before  we  come  to  it.  It  is  true 
that  some,  as  the  dying  thief,  may  find  grace  in  the  dying  hour. 
But  such  cases  are  exceptions,  a  single  one  being  given  in  the  entire 
Gospel,  that  none  may  despair,  and  but  one  that  we  may  not 
presume.  The  only  truly  wise  or  safe  preparation  for  death  is  to 
be  always  living  a  faithful  Christian  life. 

3.  It  is  no  wonder  this  world  docs  not  satisfy  the  soul.     Away  from 


PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 


Christ  and  holiness,  you  must,  from  the  very  structure  of  your 
nature,  be  wretched — like  one  forever  dying  of  famine,  but  never 
dead.  Here  in  this  world,  I  grant  you,  you  may  keep  from  utter 
starvation  by  feeding  on  the  husks  of  time  and  sense  ;  or  in  part 
slake  your  thirst  at  the  impure  fountains  of  sin,  though  it  will  be 
like  drinking  from  a  poisoned  cup,  which  satisfies  for  the  moment, 
to  destroy  in  the  end.  But  when  you  pass  to  eternity,  and  there 
find  even  these  streams  cut  off,  and  these  husks  torn  from  you, 
will  not  these  desires,  ever  gathering  strength  and  never,  never  sat- 
isfied, be  the  unquenchable  flame  and  undying  worm  to  you  ? 

4.  Probation  will  soon  be  ended,  and  retribution  soon  begun.  Now 
you  have  Sabbaths,  and  sermons,  and  communion  seasons,  and  all 
the  means  of  grace,  each,  by  the  love  of  Christ,  appealing  to  you, 
and  waiting  like  some  commissioned  angel  of  mercy  to  bear  you 
to  Christ.  Soon  will  all  these  means  be  gone.  Then  results — 
results — results  will  be  all  that  remain  to  you  forever.  See  to  it, 
through  the  offered  grace  of  Jesus,  that  they  are  such  that  in  them 
you  shall  rejoice  and  not  mourn  to  endless  ages. 


THE   DARKNESS    OF   PROVIDENCE. 

BY  B.    M.    PALMER,    D.  D. ,    NEW  ORLEANS. 

Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  him,   What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now  ;  but 
thou  shall  know  hereafter. — John  xiii.  7. 

I.   Reasons  for  the  mystery  of  god'  s  dispensations. 

1.  //  is  necessary*  in  order  to  the  assertion  of  God's  absolute  su- 
premacy. The  mightiest  despot  that  ever  sat  upon  a  throne  never 
could  gain  control  of  the  heart  of  a  single  subject.  His  power 
was  limited  to  the  external,  the  fortunes  and  acts  of  men  ;  but  to 
constrain  the  thoughts  and  affections  was  beyond  his  power.  But 
when  God  claims  supremacy,  it  is  a  supremacy  over  the  whole 
nature  of  man.  His  wisdom,  justice,  power,  and  holiness  are 
infinite,  and  all  that  is,  exists  by  virtue  of  His  creative  will.  This 
attribute  of  sovereignty  is  that  which,  in  the  Scriptures,  God  guards 
with  the  greatest  jealousy.  And  the  reason  lies  in  the  possibility 
of  man's  rebelling  from  that  power.     When  God  endowed  man 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  199 

with  a  free  will,  He  made  him  the  supreme  work  of  the  universe  ; 
but  at  the  same  time  He  rendered  possible  the  thwarting  of  His 
own  will.  To  secure  the  interests  of  His  government  at  large,  it 
is  necessary  for  God  to  guard 'His  supremacy  over  all  His  creat- 
ures. It  is  necessary  that  we  should  learn  to  bow  to  what  God 
does,  not  because  we  perceive  that  it  is  best  or  wisest,  but  simply 
because  He  does  it. 

2.  This  darkness  rests  upon  Providence  because  of  its  complexity. 
Even  if  God's  dealings  with  us  had  reference  but  to  ourselves, 
they  would  be  hard  enough  to  understand.  What  man  can  tell 
the  uses  to  which  God  means  to  put  him,  the  glory  to  which  He 
means  to  exalt  him,  even  in  this  world  ;  how  much  less  that  in  the 
world  to  come  !  These  threads  of  the  earthly  life,  how  they 
stretch  beyond  the  chasm  of  death  and  are  woven  into  a  new  web 
above  the  stars  !  But  the  problem  is  rendered  vastly  more  com- 
plex for  us  by  the  interdependence  of  all  our  lives.  Each  thread 
is  necessary  to  the  integrity  of  the  fabric,  and  has  its  relation  to 
all  other  threads.  It  is  in  life  as  in  the  diagrams  of  the  mathe- 
matician, where  the  same  line  may  represent  the  side  of  many  differ- 
ent figures.  Our  personal  history  touches  that  of  many  another, 
and  our  influence  ramifies  through  the  society  in  which  we  move. 

3.  The  violence  0/  our  emotions  renders  us  incompetent  to  under- 
stand. How  often  does  the  bolt  fall  upon  us  from  a  perfectly  clear 
sky  !  And  how  our  afflictions  seem  to  link  to  each  other,  or, 
like  our  mercies,  grow  together  like  a  bunch  of  grapes  !  One 
sorrow  is  succeeded  by  another  and  another,  until  we  are  over- 
whelmed. In  such  a  condition,  how  can  we  calmly  estimate  the 
influence  of  this  or  that  affliction  upon  us  ?  We  can  only  exclaim 
with  the  Psalmist  :  "  Deep  calleth  unto  deep  at  the  noise  of  thy 
waterspouts  ;  all  thy  waves  and  thy  billows  are  gone  over  me. ' ' 
We  are  as  a  man  wrecked  at  sea — now  borne  upon  a  mountain 
wave  so  high  that  it  seems  he  shall  be  dashed  against  the  stars, 
then  as  suddenly  plunged  into  the  depths  as  if  to  be  swallowed  up 
in  the  womb  of  the  earth.  No,  it  is  not  when  the  instinct  of  love 
is  going  out  in  its  wild  cry  after  that  which  the  grave  has  seized 
that  we  can  interpret  the  meaning  of  the  bereavement. 

4.  Our  spiritual  state  is  often  inadequate  to  receive  the  explanation. 
"  I  have  yet  many  things  to  say  unto  you,  but  ye  cannot  bear 
them  now,"  said  Christ  to  His  disciples,  and  so  He  taught  them  in 


loo  PULPIT  AND   GRAVE. 

parables  containing-  the  seeds  of  truth  which  should  spring-  up  in 
the  fulnesi,  of  Christian  knowledge.  It  is  the  great  art  of  the 
human  educator  to  know  how  to  proportion  the  knowledge  con- 
veyed, to  the  ability  of  the  one  receiving,  lest  by  overcommunica- 
tion  the  very  faculties  it  is  desired  to  strengthen  be  overloaded  and 
stunted.  Now  God,  in  His  infinite  wisdom,  is  adjusting  His 
providences  to  our  spiritual  condition.  And  thus  it  happens  that 
we  are  often  able,  partially  at  least,  to  understand  what  was,  in  a 
less  mature  state  of  our  spiritual  nature,  altogether  inexplicable. 

5.  The  great  law  of  faith  renders  this  mystery  indispensable.  Faith 
is  the  law  of  this  probationary  dispensation,  just  as  knowledge  is 
the  law  of  the  dispensation  of  reward.  If  a  man  says  that  the 
doctrines  of  God's  word  are  incomprehensible,  the  answer  is 
twofold.  God  is  infinite,  and  cannot  be  perfectly  apprehended  by 
finite  minds.  His  truths,  like  the  mountains,  lift  their  gray  heads 
and  hide  themselves  in  the  clouds  of  heaven  ;  and  though  we  pass 
around  the  base,  and  partly  take  their  measure,  we  must  ourselves 
enter  the  world  in  which  these  mysteries  are  lost  to  sight,  before 
we  can  take  their  altitude.  Then  another  answer  may  be  returned, 
that  this  intellect  of  ours  must,  along  with  the  affections  and  the 
will,  be  put  upon  probation.  It  is  the  whole  man  that  God  is 
now  proving,  educating,  training.  Does  not  God  in  this  world 
put  the  intellect  of  the  creature  upon  its  trial  before  Him,  so  that 
he  shall  see  the  reasonableness  of  accepting  all  the  high  mysteries 
of  grace,  simply  by  the  testimony  upon  which  they  rest  ?  This 
law  of  faith  extends  no  less  to  the  conscience,  inasmuch  as  the 
divine  law  is  made  the  sole  standard  of  rectitude  to  man,  and  he 
is  not  permitted  to  guide  himself  by  his  natural  conscience  except 
as  that  conscience  is  enlightened  by  God's  infallible  rule  of  right. 

This  law  of  faith  extends  to  the  affections,  since  we  are  to  yield  a 
cordial  and  loving  trust,  though  God  himself  is  wrapped  in  clouds. 
This  law  extends  to  the  will,  since  we  must  defer  to  the  naked 
authority  of  God's  commands.  Now,  if  God  explains  this  sick- 
ness or  that  bankruptcy,  this  bereavement  or  that  sorrow,  there 
could  be  no  exercise  of  faith,  and  the  law  of  the  whole  economy 
under  which  we  are  placed  would  be  completely  reversed. 

II.   This  mystery  of  god's  providences  will  be  temporary.  • 

This  is  declared  in  our  text.  In  Peter's  case  the  promise  was 
soon,  in  part  at  least,  fulfilled  by  Christ's  explanation  ;  yet  how  far 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED. 


short  did  his  understanding  fall  even  then,  to  that  he  gained  on 
the  day  of  Pentecost !  So  with  us  :  many  a  dispensation  is  dark 
until  God  takes  us  by  the  hand  and  brings  us  into  higher  views 
of  Himself  and  of  His  grace. 

i.  There  is  a  strong  presumption  that  this  revelation  will  be  made, 
in  the  known  connection  between  the  two  worlds.  The  two  worlds  are 
united  in  man.  He  has  "  a  true  body  and  a  reasonable  soul." 
As  "  fire  ascending  seeks  the  sun,"  as  the  balloon  strains  at  the 
cords  that  impede  its  flight,  so  the  unconquerable  instincts 
of  man's  spiritual  nature  leap  upward.  The  very  principle  of 
ambition  is  but  the  finger  upon  the  dial-plate  of  his  spiritual  nature, 
pointing  to  hopes  and  rewards  which  can  be  realized  only  in 
the  spiritual  world.  And  when  the  soul  is  renewed  from  sin,  the 
spiritual  apprehension  is  clearer,  the  spiritual  longing  stronger.  I 
need  not  speak  of  this  to  those  familiar  with  the  privileges  of 
prayer.  And  at  the  border  line  of  death,  what  strange  overlap- 
pings  we  sometimes  see  !  How  shall  the  two  worlds  thus  touch 
each  other  in  us,  all  through  our  earthly  career,  and  their  rela- 
tions not  be  disclosed  at  last  ?  I  have  no  idea  that  at  death  we 
are  to  lose  all  individuality,  like  drops  in  the  sea.  Our  career 
there  will  be  distinctly  personal,  colored  by  our  history  here.  At 
every  moment  we  touch  wires  that  vibrate  in  eternity. 

2.  All  limitations  of  sense  will  be  removed.  We  shall  possess  the 
spiritual  body,  with  spiritual  organs  which,  as  our  senses  now  ap- 
prehend material  things,  shall  apprehend  spiritual  things.  All 
truth,  whether  of  nature  or  grace,  we  shall  be  able  to  read  in  its 
unity.  The  lesson  which  science  is  teaching  us  is  the  lesson  of 
humility.  As  she  uncovers  one  mystery,  there  opens  another. 
We  feel  in  the  very  height  and  glory  of  her  revelations,  how  the 
spirit  is  fettered  by  sense.  Ah  !  in  the  world  where  these  limita- 
tions are  thrown  aside,  we  shall  survey  God's  providence,  and  the 
darkness  will  disappear. 

3.  God' s  plans  there  will  be  co7nplcte. 

4.  The  removal  of  this  obscurity  is  necessary  to  God's  vindication. 
Do  we  ever  reflect  that  this  obscurity  is  as  great  a  hardship  upon 
God  as  upon  us  ;  that  it  exposes  Him  to  constant  misconstruction 
and  suspicion  on  our  part  ?  But  God  will  not  always  lie  under 
suspicion. 

5.  Heaven  is  the  state  and  place  of  reward  and  praise.     In  order 


202  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

that  we  may  apprehend  its  joys  as  the  rewards  bestowed  upon  us 
by  the  Master,  we  must  survey  our  earthly  life  in  all  its  connec- 
tions. And  the  word  praise  indispensably  requires  that  we  em- 
balm in  song  our  whole  experience. 


THOUGHTS   ON   IMMORTALITY. 

BY   THE    RIGHT    REV.    SAMUEL    FALLOWS,   D.  D. ,    CHICAGO. 
If  a  man  die,  shall  he  live  again  ? — Job  xiv.   14. 

We  are  met  on  the  threshold  of  our  theme  with  the  fact,  that 
among  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  the  idea  of  Immortality  has 
been  held.  This  is  a  signal  proof  that  the  idea  is  true.  It  does 
not  affect  the  validity  of  the  position  taken,  that  the  ideas  of  these 
various  nations  were  incorrect  as  regards  the  nature  of  the  future 
state.  The  clearing  up  of  all  doubts,  the  dispelling  of  all  mists, 
depends  upon  revelation.  The  function  of  God's  revealed  truth 
is  not  to  discover  new  and  fundamental  ideas  to  the  universal  in- 
telligence of  man.  It  is  to  clarify  them  of  all  error  in  their  ap- 
plication, to  bring  them  out  into  fulness  and  prominence  ;  to 
make  them  nutritive  and  determinative  in  the  moral  and  spiritual 
life. 

While  holding  to  the  transmigration  of  the  soul,  the  ancient 
Hindoos  believed  in  its  essential  immortality.  It  was  taught  by 
them,  "  As  a  man  throweth  away  his  old  garment  and  putteth  on 
new,  so  the  soul,  having  quitted  its  old  mortal  frames,  entereth 
into  others  which  are  new.  The  weapon  divideth  it  not.  The 
water  corrupteth  it  not.  The  wind  drieth  it  not  away.  It  is  in- 
divisible, inconsumable,  incorruptible." 

Herodotus  says  of  the  Egyptians  :  "  They  were  the  first  of 
mankind  who  had  defended  the  immortality  of  the  soul." 

Lord  Bolingbroke,  freethinker  though  he  was,  declares  that 
"  the  doctrine  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  and  a  future  state  of 
rewards  and  punishments  began  to  be  taught  before  we  have  any 
light  into  antiquity.  And  when  we  begin  to  have  any,  we  find  it 
established  that  it  was  strongly  inculcated  from  time  immemorial." 

Volney  admits  that  all  the  earliest  nations  taught  that  the  soul 
survived  the  body,  and  was  immortal. 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  203 

It  has  been  the  belief  of  earlier  and  later  peoples.  The  nations 
of  Northern  Europe,  the  fierce,  restless  hordes  who  forced  the 
gates  of  the  Eternal  City  and  crushed  the  Roman  power,  believed 
that  the  slothful  and  cowardly,  at  death,  went  into  dark  caves 
under  ground,  full  of  noisome  creatures,  and  there  they  grovelled 
in  endless  stench  and  misery.  But  those  who  died  in  battle  went 
immediately  to  the  vast  palace  of  Odin,  their  god  of  war,  where 
they  were  entertained  in  perpetual  feasts  and  mirth. 

Among  civilized  and  uncivilized  nations,  on  continents  and 
islands  in  every  quarter  of  the  globe,  the  belief  in  immortality  has 
been  retained.  Whence  came  the  idea  ?  Some  of  the  deniers  of 
the  soul's  inherent  immortality  have  attempted  to  answer  the 
question.  Philosophers  and  statesmen,  they  allege,  ' '  practising 
a  pious  fraud  upon  the  people,  foisted  it  upon  them.  It  was 
found  necessary  to  bring  in  the  idea  of  a  future  life,  to  hold  the 
masses  in  subjection,  to  secure  their  allegiance  to  the  State,  and 
uphold  the  dignity  of  philosophy."  Plato  is  represented  as 
quoting  a  Pythagorean  philosopher,  who  taught  that,  "as  we 
sometimes  cure  the  body  by  unwholesome  remedies,  when  such  as 
are  most  wholesome  have  no  effect,  so  we  restrain  those  minds  by 
false  relations  which  will  not  be  persuaded  by  the  truth."  In  like 
manner,  it  is  claimed,  the  philosophers  and  statesmen  reasoned, 
and  so  invented  the  idea  of  immortality  to  compass  their  ends. 

We  have  only  one  question  to  ask.  What  philosopher,  or 
what  statesman  invented  it  ?  When  his  name  is  ascertained,  we 
may  entertain  such  an  unfounded  assertion.  He  will  be  found 
closely  akin  to  the  one  who  invented  the  love  of  the  beautiful,  the 
sentiment  of  harmony,  the  love  of  children,  the  fact  of  conscience, 
and  the  idea  of  God.  If  the  historical  argument  for  immortal  ex- 
istence were  pressed  no  further  than  the  admitted  position  that  it 
is  congenial  to  the  universal  mind  of  man,  a  strong  presumption 
would  be  created  in  favor  of  the  doctrine.  But  it  goes  much 
further,  and  proves  that  the  idea  of  continued  being  is  native  to  the 
human  soul.  The  consent  of  all  nations  is  the  grandest  affirma- 
tion possible  of  what  the  consciousness  of  man  teaches.  The 
philosopher,  the  statesman,  and  the  priest  may  have  played  upon 
the  credulity  of  the  people,  and  held  them  fast  in  dire  superstitious 
bondage  ;  but  it  was  through  a  perversion  of  the  instincts  and 
principles  God  had  implanted  in  the  constitution  of  man  himself. 


204  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

I  may  adduce  the  metaphysical  and  moral  argument. 

In  the  Kensington  Museum,  in  England,  I  saw  some  of  the 
sketches  from  the  master-hand  of  Turner.  Rough  and  rude  they 
were,  but  yet  such  only  as  his  hand  could  draw.  Over  against 
them  were  the  finished  pictures,  with  all  their  faithfulness  of 
detail,  accuracy  of  expression,  and  magnificence  of  execution.  So 
the  best  human  life  here,  with  its  marvellousness  of  inventive 
powers,  its  royal  reach  of  reason,  its  sublime  daring  of  genius,  its 
amplitude  of  affection,  its  deeds  of  goodness,  is  but  an  imperfect 
sketch,  and  yet  a  sketch  that  the  hand  of  God  only  could  draw. 
It  is  but  the  alphabet  out  of  which  the  stately,  glowing,  and 
immortal  epic  of  a  Paradise  regained  shall  spring  from  a  Paradise 
lost.  It  is  but  the  wail  of  a  new-born  child  compared  with  the 
symphonies  of  angels. 

-  No  clearer  truth  does  the  open  book  of  Nature  unfold  to  the 
wise  and  reverent  reader  than  the  existence  of  a  plan  in  the 
development  of  the  animal  kingdom.  No  St.  Peter's  or  St.  Paul's 
can  more  clearly  indicate  the  idea  of  Michael  Angelo  or  Sir 
Christopher  Wren  than  the  four  great  types  on  which  organic  life 
is  built,  the  idea  of  the  Great  Architect  of  the  universe.  This 
plan,  in  its  fourfold  manifestations,  implies  predetermination,  and 
involves  consummation.  Every  organ,  however  rudimentary  at 
any  particular  stage  of  the  unfolding,  becomes  a  function  some- 
where on  the  line  of  development.  It  is  sure  to  be  employed 
down  in  the  scale  of  existence.  Some  animals  have  fingers  which 
are  never  used.  They  are  given  them  by  the  Being  who  unvary- 
ingly adheres  to  His  plan.  They  are  there,  because  when  man, 
the  lord  and  head  of  the  kingdom,  comes  to  the  throne,  bringing 
forward  and  completing  all  the  lower  and  preceding  types,  he  must 
and  does  possess  five  fingers  on  each  hand,  of  varying  length  and 
strength.  Those  rough  and  rigid  protuberances,  in  the  structure 
of  his  inferior  relations,  prophesied  the  free,  facile,  and  flexible  use 
of  the  most  perfect  instruments  for  carrying  out  the  thought  of  the 
brain  and  the  love  of  the  heart.  If  there  be  no  immortal  life,  all 
the  prophecies  of  Nature  fail — suddenly  and  unaccountably  fail. 

In  the  splendid  make  and  mechanism  of  the  body,  compared 
with  which  the  most  cunning  piece  of  man's  workmanship  is  a 
bungling  performance,  every  promise  has  been  redeemed,  and 
every  prophecy  fulfilled.     It  is  correlated  to  the  world  about  it. 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  205 

Light  has  been  made  for  the  eye,  sound  for  the  ear,  food  for  the 
palate.  Nay,  in  the  very  constitution  of  the  mind,  axioms  have 
been  given  to  the  reason,  truth  to  the  intellect,  and  beauty  to  the 
aesthetic  taste.  Still  further  the  conscience  has  asked  for  light 
and  cleansing,  and  they  have  been  given  ;  the  soul  has  cried  out 
for  God,  for  the  living  God,  and  "  the  invisible  appeared  in  sight, 
and  God  was  seen  by  mortal  eye." 

We  have  the  instinctive  fear  of  death — the  unutterable  dread  of 
annihilation — the  passionate  longing  for  continued  existence. 
We  have  powers  capable  of  endless  progression  ;  faculties  which 
find  no  appropriate  sphere  on  earth,  which  are  caged  and  con- 
fined, as  the  panting  bird  aspiring  after  liberty  beats  its  breast 
against  the  restraining  bars.  We  feel,  we  know  our  kinship  with 
the  skies.  This  world  now  cannot  bound  our  intellect  ;  burning 
worlds  and  burned-out  worlds,  swinging  in  their  brilliant  and 
gloomy  orbits,  throw  up  no  barriers  against  the  swift  feet  of  our 
soaring  imaginations.  Beyond  the  uttermost  limits  of  creation, 
we  send  our  thoughts,  our  adoring  love  ;  beyond  prostrate 
cherubim  and  seraphim,  above  the  very  throne  itself,  to  Him  that 
sitteth  upon  the  throne,  God  over  all,  blessed  for  ever  more. 
This  light  of  intellect  to  be  quenched  in  oblivion's  waters  !  These  9 
powers  to  be  stamped  out  by  annihilation  !  These  longings  to  be 
unsatisfied,  these  hopes  to  be  mocked  !  Oh,  what  a  superb  farce 
is  this  ! 

The  God  of  Nature  is  the  father  of  the  immortal  soul.  The 
brute  attains  its  ends.  Man  "would  be  a  little  lower  than  the  brute 
if  he  did  not  attain  his.  There  is  no  annihilation  of  a  single 
substance  in  Nature,  though  \heform  may  be  endlessly  changed. 
There  is  no  annihilation  of  spirit.  The  body  may  wax  and  wane. 
"  I  call  limine,  not  me."  Connected  with  it,  I  yet  know  that 
from  it  "I  am  distinct,  as  is  the  swimmer  from  the  flood." 
My  thought,  emotion,  and  will  are  not  acids  and  phosphates. 
Our  essential  instincts  are  not  a  supreme  forgery.  Our  faith  in  the 
God  of  Nature  and  man  is  not  in  vain. 

"  'Tis  the  Divinity  that  stirs  within  us, 

'Tis  heaven  itself  that  points  out  an  hereafter 
And  intimates  eternity  to  man." 

You  cannot  sail  upon  the  ocean,  out  of  sight  of  land,  without 


206  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

calling  upon  the  heaven  and  its  orbs  of  light  to  aid  you.  You 
must  rectify  your  compass  and  your  course  by  its  central  sun. 
You  cannot  sail  life's  sea  without  life's  heaven.  Your  compass 
of  philosophy,  history,  of  political  economy,  of  statesmanship,  of 
civilization,  must  have  the  rectification  of  the  skies,  or  you  never 
can  reach  the  heaven  of  humanity's  hopes.  Break  away  from 
the  Heaven-Father,  and  you  are  plunged  in  the  blackness  of  dark- 
ness, and  the  horrors  of  chaotic  ruin.  You  have  read  that  poem 
on  Darkness,  by  one  of  the  most  gifted  but  sadly  erring  writers 
this  earth  has  ever  held.     It  was 

"  A  dream  which  was  not  all  a  dream. 
The  bright  sun  was  extinguished,  and  the  stars 
Did  wander  darkling  in  the  eternal  space, 
Rayless  and  pathless,  and  the  icy  earth 
Swung  blind  and  blackening  in  the  moonless  air." 

You  know  the  rest.  The  prayer  for  light ;  the  watch-fires  of 
thrones,  and  palaces,  and  huts  ;  the  burning  cities,  the  blazing 
homes,  the  crackling  trunks  of  forest  fires  ;  the  crouching  of  the 
freezing  multitudes  before  their  ineffectual  flames  ;  the  looking  up 
with  mad,  disquiet  awe  on  the  dull  sky,  the  pall  of  a  past  world  ; 
the  cursing,  the  gnashing  of  teeth,  the  howling  of  despair  in  the 
dust ;  the  shrieking  of  the  wild  birds,  and  the  flapping  of  their 
useless  wings  ;  the  wildest  brutes  becoming  tame  and  tremulous  ; 
the  crawling  vipers,  hissing,  but  stingless  ;  the  glut  of  war,  the 
gorging  with  blood  ;  the  death  of  love  ;  the  pang  of  famine,  the 
dropping  dead  ;  the  last  two  who  survived — enemies,  "  scraping 
with  their  cold,  skeleton  hands  the  feeble  ashes  ;"  the  gaze  of  each 
upon  the  other  ;  their  shriek,  and  death  from  mutual  hideous- 
ness  ! 

Extinguish  those  greater  and  lesser  lights  of  God  and  immor- 
tality from  our  sky,  and  you  make  the  poet's  dream  a  fearful 
reality  on  our  earth.  In  that  awful  winter  which  shall  bring  icy 
death  to  man's  religious  nature,  and  to  his  instincts  and  aspira- 
tions for  the  life  to  come,  all  else  that  we  hold  dear  below — gov- 
ernment, home,  social  order,  civilization,  faith,  hope,  love,  shall 
perish  with  eternal  frost.  And  the  horrors  of  the  vision  of  atheism, 
seen  by  the  philosophic  Jean  Paul,  shall  be  added  to  those  of  the 
poet  Byron  :  "  Raising  his  eyes  toward  the  heavenly  vault,   he 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  207 

beheld  a  deep,    black,    bottomless  void  !      Eternity,   resting    on 
chaos,  was  slowly  devouring  itself  !" 

The  end  of  the  life  of  that  greatest  of  American  statesmen, 
foremost  of  American  lawyers,  and  most  commanding  of  American 
orators,  Daniel  Webster,  came  in  the  course  of  time.  Too  feeble 
to  hold  his  pen,  he  said  in  a  whisper  to  Mr.  Curtis,  his  biog- 
rapher, ' '  I  had  intended  to  prepare  a  work  for  the  press,  to  bear 
my  testimony  to  Christianity  ;  but  it  is  now  too  late.  Still,  I 
would  like  to  bear  witness  to  the  Gospel  before  I  die.  Writing 
materials  were  brought,  and  he  dictated  :  "  Lord,  I  believe  ;  help 
thou  my  unbelief.  Philosophical  objections  have  often  shaken  my 
reason  with  regard  to  Christianity,  especially  the  objections  drawn 
from  the  magnitude  of  the  universe  contrasted  with  the  littleness  of 
this  planet ;  but  my  heart  has  always  assured  me,  and  reassured 
me,  that  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  is  a  divine  reality  ;"  and  these 
words  are  carved  on  the  marble  that  rests  over  his  sacred  dust  at 
Marshfield.  But,  as  that  brilliant  orb  was  going  down  behind  the 
western  hills,  he  asked,  as  if  still  intently  anxious  to  preserve  his 
consciousness  to  the  last,  and  to  watch  for  the  moment  and  act  of 
his  departure,  so  as  to  comprehend  it,  whether  he  were  alive  or 
not.  On  being  assured  he  was,  he  said,  as  if  assenting  to  what 
had  been  told  him,  because  he  himself  perceived  it  was  true,  "  / 
still  live!" — his  last  words.  The  sunset  had  come;  but  it  was  a 
sunrise  to  know  no  more  setting.  "  His  earnest  soul  repeated,  I 
think,  the  last  words  he  spoke  on  earth  as  his  first  in  heaven — "  / 
still  live  l" 


LESSONS   FROM   LIFE'S   BREVITY. 

BY    W.    W.    RAMSAY,    D.  D. ,    DETROIT,    MICH. 

So  teach  tis  to  number  our  days  that  we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto  wis- 
dom.— Psalm  xc   12. 

No  difference  is  so  wide  as  that  existing  between  life  and  death. 
In  the  activities  of  the  one  and  the  stillness  of  the  other,  the 
familiar  tones  of  life  and  the  unnatural  hush  of  death,  is  manifest 
an  incongruity  more  painful  than  is  anywhere  else  observed.  The 
stillness  of  death  renders  the  occasion  a  time  favorable  for  heark- 


208  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

ening  to  those  echoes  which  respond  to  the  questionings  of  the 
heart.  Death  brings  its  sadness,  if  not  its  gloom  ;  but  even  this 
reveals  a  light  precious  and  cheering. 

The  questionings  of  the  intellect  are  important,  yet  its  responses 
at  such  a  time  are  necessarily  evasive.  The  giants  of  thought  can 
be  observed  then  but  as  gladiators  which  struggle  in  the  arena  for 
the  mastery.  From  such  curious  displays  men  turn  away  to  listen 
to  the  heart's  throbs.  They  are  not  cold  and  distant,  nor  abstruse 
and  evasive.  The  schools  of  philosophy  may  hide  their  evidences 
in  the  alcoves  of  learning  beyond  the  reach  of  the  masses,  but  the 
heart  writes,  in  lines  of  light  and  shadings  of  sorrow,  a  vernacular 
which  can  be  read  by  all.  The  masses  may  not  be  able  to  define 
life,  but  they  feel  its  throbs.  They  may  not  trace  the  threads  of 
its  intricate  logic,  but  they  can  feel  the  assurance  of  its  unmistak- 
able impressions,  as  Mrs.  Browning  says  : 

"  Like  a  white  soul  tossed  out  to  eternity 
With  the  thrills  of  time  upon  it." 

It  is  then,  when  the  death  shadow  has  fallen  about  our  path, 
that  we  are  impressed  with 

i.  The  brevity  of  life.  Brevity  is  a  relative  term.  To  the  child 
who  anticipates  a  coming  pleasure,  the  lagging  hours  are  torture 
with  their  delay.  To  the  child  who  has  entered  into  the  possession 
of  the  coveted  delight,  the  hour  is  gone  as  though  its  minutes  were 
but  moments.  To  the  aged  man,  boyhood  is  crowded  into  a  dis- 
tant perspective,  while  to  the  same,  life  yesterday  was  as  the  flight 
of  time.  But  if  the  heart  is  caught  in  the  cruel  cogs  of  sorrow, 
the  moment  is  as  an  hour,  and  the  hour  becomes  an  age.  But 
when  the  soul  stands  where  it  surveys  in  dread  or  hope  the  vast 
stretches  of  the  future,  time  is  relegated  to  its  appropriate  brief 
curve  in  the  swift  current  of  being. 

Time  is  but  a  speck,  the  merest  dot  along  the  ages.  What  is 
the  age  of  a  man  compared  with  that  of  the  race,  and  this  with 
the  vast  stretch  of  world-building  which  stretches  from  Eden  back 
to  "  the  beginning"  ?  It  was  such  a  retrospect  which  moved 
Jacob  to  declare  in  the  presence  of  Egypt's  King  :  "  The  days  of 
the  years  of  my  pilgrimage  are  an  hundred  and  thirty  years  :  few 
and  evil  have  the  days  of  the  years  of  my  life  been." 

The  brevity  of  life  is  forcibly  suggested  by  Moses  in  this  nine- 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  209 

tieth  Psalm.  It  is  as  a  flood  which  rises  upon  the  impulse  of  weep- 
ing skies,  which  threatens  to  be  a  permanent  devastation,  and  yet 
in  a  single  night  retires  within  its  banks  and  promises  obediently 
to  minister  to  the  beauty  of  nature  and  the  welfare  of  man.  It  is 
also  as  a  sleep.  Who  does  not  know  the  sweetness  of  sleep  in  the 
years  preceding  the  weight  of  care  ?  The  child  weary  with  play 
sinks  to  his  pillow,  and  is  only  aroused  by  the  advance  of  the 
brightening  morning,  to  question  the  assertion  that  the  night  is 
equal  in  length  to  the  day.     And  so  is  life,  a  brief,  dreamless  sleep. 

Again,  says  the  Psalmist,  "  We  spend  our  years  as  a  tale  that  is 
told."  From  parental  lips  we  heard  the  recital  of  childish  story. 
It  was  the  delight  of  only  the  fraction  of  an  hour,  and  the  tale  was 
told.  And  such  is  life.  Notwithstanding  its  engrossing  interests  of 
business  and  amusement,  soon  it  is  gone,  even  as  a  tale  that  is 
told.  The  moment  refuses  to  stay,  and  rushes  with  its  impress  of 
virtue  or  of  sin  into  the  unchangeable  past.  The  grass,  too,  in  its 
fragile  beauty,  is  made  to  illustrate  this  same  all-important  truth. 
Mark  its  tender  growth  and  speedy  maturity.  "  In  the  morning 
it  flourisheth  and  groweth  up,"  but  the  instruction  is  in  its  speedy 
decay  ;  for  "  in  the  evening  it  is  cut  down  and  withereth.  For 
the  sun  is  no  sooner  risen  with  a  burning  heat,  but  it  withereth  the 
grass,  and  the  flower  thereof  falleth,  and  the  grace  of  the  fashion 
of  it  perisheth."  "  All  flesh  is  grass,  and  all  the  goodliness  there- 
of is  as  the  flower  of  the  field. ' '  So  whether  we  wake  or  sleep, 
work  or  pray,  we  grow  in  days  and  in  years,  and — then  die. 

2.  The  vanity  of  earthly  pursuits.  The  masses  by  their  action 
seem  to  indicate  that  they  expect  to  live  here  forever.  The  foun- 
dations of  their  mansions  of  pleasure  are  deep  and  strong,  the  walls 
thick  and  high,  as  though  they  were  to  shelter  the  millenarian  in- 
stead of  the  man  of  threescore  years  and  ten. 

One  large  part  of  humanity  are  busy  with  the  effort  to  accumu- 
late riches,  as  though  this  were  the  chief  end  of  man.  They  heap 
up  riches  as  though  they  knew  who  should  gather  them.  Another 
part,  goaded  by  a  conscienceless  ambition,  are  reaching  after 
worldly  distinction.  The  most  tender  and  fragrant  vines  of  the 
soul  are  ruthlessly  trampled  under  foot,  that  they  may  send  a 
sounding  name  abroad,  only  to  make  at  the  last  the  fearful  dis- 
covery that  ambition's  highest  success  is  the  soul's  deepest  delu- 
sion.    Wolsey  said  :  "If  I  had  served  my  God  with  half  the  zeal 


PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 


that  I  have  served  my  king,  He  would  not  in  mine  age  have  left 
me  naked  to  mine  enemies."  Napoleon  in  bitterness  of  spirit 
saw  the  walls  of  his  empire  crumbling  about  him,  though  they  had 
cost  the  sacrifice  of  myriads  of  lives.  It  were  assuredly  wiser  to 
sing  with  a  man  who  wore  honors  forced  upon  him  : 

"  O  why  should  the  spirit  of  mortal  be  proud  ?" 

Then  worldly  pleasures  make  sensuous  appeals  for  the  devotion 
of  immortals.  The  world's  actors  are  numerous  and  talented,  its 
scenes  brilliant  and  attractive,  as  though  to  be  amused  were  the 
highest  purpose  of  life.  But  it  is  only  a  repetition  of  the  same 
mistake.  The  soul,  true  to  its  heavenly  origin,  refuses  to  be  satis- 
fied with  the  unreal  fictions  of  the  stage  and  the  intoxicating  maze 
of  the  dance.  Over  all  may  be  inscribed  the  character,  Unsatisfy- 
ing. A  Roman  emperor  offered  a  reward  to  the  inventor  of  a 
new  pleasure.      His  was  the  poet's  experience  : 

"  I  have  sought  round  this  verdant  earth, 
For  unfading  joy  ; 
I  have  tried  every  source  of  mirth, 
But  all,  all  will  cloy." 

Can  such  persons  have  numbered  the  brief  moments  which  will 
so  soon  introduce  them  to  that  unfamiliar  future,  from  whose 
bourn  no  traveller  ever  returns  ?  If  the  Epicurean  sentiment  be 
true,  such  surrender  to  the  waves  of  sensual  pleasure  is  consistent 
and  desirable  ;  but  if  "  the  soul,  immortal  as  its  Sire,  can  never 
die,"  such  indifference  is  reckless  and  reprehensible. 

3.  How  can  we  apply  our  hearts  unto  wisdom?  The  chief  end 
of  man  is  not  amusement  and  pleasure-seeking.  These  are  selfish 
and  narrowing.  God  places  before  the  race  a  broader  and  more 
enlarging  mission,  in  which  there  is  a  brighter  glory  and  a  truer 
happiness.  ' '  The  chief  end  of  man  is  to  honor  and  glorify  God, 
and  to  enjoy  Him  forever."  Living  is  full  of  terrible  responsibil- 
ities. No  wonder  they  overawed  the  majestic  minds  of  Kant  and 
Webster  !  It  is  the  mind  unable  or  disinclined  to  sweep  the  wide 
vista  of  destiny  that  drifts  aimlessly,  as  though  a  bright  destiny 
were  without  conditions.  But  everywhere  success  attends  studied 
preparation,  while  failure  follows  in  the  wake  of  indifference.  Life 
has  placed  its  secular  prizes  beyond  reach  of  the  listless  and  in- 
different.    Appreciation  of  good  pays  the  price  of  effort  for  its 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED. 


attainment.  This  means  a  hand  on  the  helm,  an  arm  at  the  oar, 
an  eye  on  the  chart,  while  the  anchor  awaits  an  emergency.  God 
very  wisely  placed  the  glory  of  mind  at  the  goal  of  intelligent  in- 
vestigation. Study  is  the  mind's  stimulus,  and  achievement  its 
greatest  joy.  And  the  same  divine  goodness  would  reveal  any 
essential  truth,  which  by  its  nature  was  beyond  man's  powers  of 
discovery.  And  yet  with  all  their  studying,  ancient  sages  only 
guessed  at  moral  truth.  Here  they  needed  that  one  who  knew  its 
influence,  without  the  delays  and  disappointments  of  experiment, 
should  announce  what  was  beyond,  and  how,  if  desirable,  it  might 
be  attained.  David  felt  the  need.  Destiny  was  crowding  him, 
and  he  knew  not  in  the  darkness  where  to  place  his  feet,  till  the 
wave  of  a  mysterious  wand  made  a  rift  in  the  overshadowing  mist. 
Then  in  his  joy  he  cried  out,  "  Thou  wilt  guide  me  with  thy 
counsel,  and  afterward  receive  me  to  glory."  God's  counsel  ex- 
presses His  will,  and  is  therefore  good,  perfect,  and  acceptable. 
This  life  with  its  varied  experiences  cannot  disclose  the  wisdom  of 
this  will  ;  but  as  the  soul  among  the  possible  ten  thousand  plans 
finds  the  one  which  shines  brighter  and  brighter  even  to  the  per- 
fect day  ;  as  from  the  eternal  heights  it  regards  the  wisdom  of 
God's  plan  disclosed,  it  will  join  a  chorus  of  the  saved  in  ascribing 
wisdom  to  Him  whom  we  should  serve.  Moore  caught  a  glimpse 
of  this  peerless  wisdom  : 

"  Go  wing  your  flight  from  star  to  star, 
From  world  to  shining  world,  as  far 

As  the  universe  spreads  its  flaming  wall. 
Count  all  the  pleasures  of  all  the  spheres, 
And  multiply  each  by  thousands  of  years  : 

One  moment  in  heaven  is  worth  them  all." 


TRANSITION  TO  THE  LIFE  BEYOND. 

BY  LYMAN  ABBOTT,  D.D.,  NEW  YORK. 

It  is  appointed  unto  men  once  to  die,  but  after  this  the  judgment. — Heb. 
ix.   27. 

i.  It  is  very  clear  that  the  New  Testament  teaches  that  there  is  a 
future  state,  and  that  this  world  is  not  all,  nor  the  greater  part,  of 
our  existence.     We  are  here  standing  in  the  vestibule  of  life.     We 


212  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

are  the  seed  in  the  ground,  just  beginning  to  sprout.  There  are 
possibilities  in  us  which  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  nor 
the  heart  conceived.  It  is  true  of  man  that,  when  the  Spirit  of 
God  is  playing  upon  him,  he  comes  into  a  certain  sense  of  what  it 
is  to  be  a  son  of  God  ;  but  it  is  also  true  that  ' '  we  know  not 
what  we  shall  be  ;"  there  is  a  future  larger,  grander,  more  glorious 
than  we  can  conceive  of — transcendent  above  all  knowledge.  We 
cannot  comprehend  it  :  our  thought  of  heaven  must  seem  to  God 
as  the  Indian  child's  thought  of  a  palace  seems  to  us.  If  you 
undertake  to  give  to  the  little  child  a  conception  of  the  pleasure 
that  comes  through  literature,  or  through  the  study  of  language  or 
science  or  philosophy,  what  conception  can  you  give  him  ?  We 
are  like  the  little  child  ;  we  know  not,  nor  can  we  know,  what 
God  hath  in  store  for  those  that  love  Him. 

2.  We  may  know  from  the  New  Testament  teaching  that  the 
future  state  is  a  spiritual  life.  It  is  not  a  state  in  which  the  enjoy- 
ments of  this  life  are  to  be  reproduced  in  larger  measure.  It  is 
not  a  state  in  which  the  skies  are  brighter,  the  flowers  sweeter, 
and  the  music  more  ecstatic.  That  was  the  Mohammedan  notion, 
and  it  is  the  notion  of  a  great  many  Christian  people  to-day  ;  but 
it  is  not  the  New  Testament  notion.  The  New  Testament  teach- 
ing is,  I  think,  that,  when  we  die,  we  have  done  with  the  body. 
We  lay  it  away  in  the  grave,  and  that  is  the  end  of  it ;  it  is  a  cast- 
off  garment.  The  old  pagan  notion  was  that  there  could  be  no 
future  life  of  the  soul  without  a  future  life  of  the  body  as  well  ; 
they  accordingly  embalmed  the  bodies  of  their  dead — buried  the 
horse  with  its  rider.  When  they  thought  of  the  departed,  they 
connected  him  altogether  with  a  physical  organization,  and 
imagined  that  the  body  must  enter  the  future  state,  or  the  soul 
could  not.  This  pagan  notion  has  been  engrafted  in  the  Christian 
creed,  but  it  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  New  Testament.  Men  say, 
Cannot  God  gather  back  again  the  various  particles  of  the  human 
body  that  have  been  scattered  after  burial,  here  and  there,  over 
the  earth  ?  Is  He  not  able  to  gather  these  particles  together  and 
make  out  of  them  the  same  old  body  ?  Yes  !  I  do  not  know  that 
God  cannot  do  this.  But  is  God  shut  up  to  do  this  ?  Is  there 
no  recreative  power  in  God  to  give  the  spirit  a  more  glorious  body 
for  the  larger  and  grander  existence  of  the  future  ? 

3.  Christ  has  already  passed  through  the  door  into  which  His  dis- 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  213 

ciples  are  to  enter.  The  New  Testament  does  not  speak  of  a  Christ 
that  is  to  enter  by  and  by  into  glory  ;  it  does  not  recognize  Christ 
as  existing  in  an  intermediate  state  ;  it  declares  that  Christ  has 
already  entered  into  His  glory.  After  Christ  had  risen  and  was 
walking  on  the  way  to  Emmaus,  He  met  some  of  His  disciples  : 
they  were  talking  of  His  crucifixion,  death,  and  burial,  and  were 
disheartened  because  of  what  had  occurred.  Jesus  said  :  "  Ought 
not  Christ  to  have  suffered  these  things,  and  to  enter  into  glory  / ' 
He  was  not,  by  and  by,  to  enter  in  ;  but,  through  suffering,  He 
had  already  entered  in.  When  Stephen  was  about  to  be  stoned, 
he  lifted  up  his  eyes  and  beheld  the  Son  of  God  standing  at  the 
right  hand  of  His  Father.  He  was  not  asleep  ;  He  was  not  in 
some  mysterious  prison-house,  waiting  till  His  release  should 
come  ;  He  was  already  standing  on  the  right  hand  of  God. 

It  is  a  common  notion  that  the  dead  lie  in  an  unconscious  state 
until  the  centuries  have  rolled  away,  or  that  they  enter,  half- 
clothed,  half-prepared  for  the  future  life  ;  that  they  remain  in  their 
prison-house  waiting  for  the  time  when  the  final  judgment  shall  be 
made  known.  I  do  not  think  this  is  Scriptural  teaching.  I  think 
the  New  Testament  teaches  that  they  that  die  in  Christ  follow 
their  Christ  and  enter  into  glory  with  their  Christ.  The  old  Jews, 
in  Old  Testament  times,  believed  as  the  pagans  believed.  Life 
seemed  to  them  full  of  exultation  and  joy,  but  they  who  died  went 
down  into  Hades,  in  which  there  was  no  joy,  no  life,  there  to 
await  the  final  judgment-day.  But  the  New  Testament  repudiates 
this  idea  of  an  intermediate  state,  clearly  and  distinctly.  When 
Jesus  went  to  Bethany  and  found  the  sisters  sorrowing  over  the 
death  of  Lazarus,  and  Martha  said  to  Him,  "  If  Thou  hadst  been 
here  my  brother  had  not  died,"  He  began  to  give  them  consola- 
tion by  saying,  "Thy  brother  shall  rise  again."  Martha  saith 
uhto  Him,  "  I  know  that  he  shall  rise  again  in  the  resurrection  at 
the  last  day."  They  held  the  faith  that  was  common  in  their 
time,  that  there  was  to  be  a  long  state  of  unconsciousness.  They 
had  laid  Lazarus  away  in  the  tomb,  to  sleep  the  last  long  sleep, 
and  they  thought  that  by  and  by  he  should  rise  again.  Jesus 
said  :  "lam  the  resurrection  and  the  life  ;  he  that  believeth  in 
Me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live  ;  and  he  that  liveth 
and  believeth  in  Me  shall  never  die."  When  one  has  this  faith  in 
Christ,  there  is  no  break  in  life  ;  no  cessation  of  existence  ;  no 


214  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

long,  dreary  sleep  ;  life  flows  on  in  one  continuous  current  into 
the  great  ocean  of  eternity. 

Christ  said  to  the  thief  who  hung  upon  the  cross  near  Him, 
"  To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  Me  in  paradise."  Paul  says,  "  To 
die  is  gain  ;"  and  just  before  his  execution,  writing  a  letter  to  his 
friend  Timothy,  he  says,  "  Henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me  a 
crown."  Not  in  the  future  is  there  to  be  one,  but  from  that  mo- 
ment the  crown  awaits  him.  When  he  would  stimulate  the  faith 
of  those  to  whom  he  wrote,  he  said,  ' '  Ye  are  come  to  Mount 
Sion,  to  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  to  an  innumerable  company 
of  angels,  .  .  .  and  to  God,  the  judge  of  all,  and  to  the 
spirits  of  just  men  viade  perfect ' '  — men  who  have  already  entered 
into  the  presence  of  God.  John,  in  his  vision  on  the  isle  of 
Patmos,  beheld  men  who  had  come  out  of  every  tongue  and  tribe 
and  nation,  standing  around  the  throne  of  God  in  heaven,  singing 
the  song  of  Moses  and  the  Lamb.  The  heaven  of  the  Bible  is 
always  in  the  present  tense.  The  music  has  begun  ;  they  that 
have  gone  forth  from  us  have  entered  into  glory.  "  It  is  ap- 
pointed unto  men  once  to  die,  after  this  the  judgment;"  not, 
after  death  a  long,  dreary,  intermediate  sleep,  and  after  this  the 
judgment.  Men  have  been  accustomed  to  picture  a  great  judg- 
ment-day, in  which  the  dead,  numbering  hundreds  of  thousands 
and  thousands  of  thousands,  rise  and  stand  in  their  places  before 
one  great  throne  and  are  called  up,  one  after  another,  and 
judged  one  by  one.  It  is  estimated  that  one  birth  and  one  death 
take  place  every  moment — you  cannot  conceive  of  any  judgment 
that  would  take  less  time  ;  accordingly  the  judgment-day  would  last 
as  long  as  the  human  race  lasted  before  it.  What  if  that  day  has 
already  dawned,  even  though  its  sunset  hour  has  not  yet  come  ? 
What  if  you  and  I  are  standing  before  the  throne  of  God,  being 
judged  to-day  just  as  much  as  we  shall  ever  be  judged  ?  What  if 
Christ  sits  on  His  throne  to-day,  placing  the  sheep  on  His  right 
hand,  and  the  goats  on  His  left  ?  What  if  Christ  is  to-day 
separating  those  who,  by  patient  continuance  in  well-doing,  seek 
for  glory  and  honor  and  immortality,  from  those  who  are  conten- 
tious and  obey  not  the  truth,  but  obey  unrighteousness  ? 

It  is  a  solemn  thought  to  me  that  I  am  not  far  from  my  judg- 
ment-day ;  nay,  that  I  am  in  my  judgment-day,  and  any  moment 
I  may  step  over  the  border  line.      That  day  is  not  in  the  far 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  215 

future  :  The  friend  gone  from  my  side  has  already  gone  through 
his  inquisition.  Those  that  have  gone — father,  mother,  beloved 
— they  have  not  gone  down  into  the  grave  to  wait  there  ;  they  are 
not  in  a  prison-house,  waiting  there  ;  if  they  were  sons  of  God, 
they  have  gone  to  Christ  to  be  sharers  in  His  glory.  They  have 
not  been  taken  away  in  the  midst  of  their  usefulness,  but  they 
have  entered  a  broader  field  of  activity ;  they  have  already 
entered  into  Christ's  glory,  and  are  kings  and  priests  unto  Him. 
And  I,  too,  look  up  ;  I  behold  a  great  multitude  which  no  man 
can  number,  not  in  graveyards  and  cemeteries  and  beneath  the 
sea,  not  huddled  together  in  some  dreary  prison-house  waiting  the 
hour  of  release  and  redemption,  but  standing  before  the  throne 
and  the  Lamb,  clothed  with  white  robes  and  palms  in  their  hands, 
and  crying  with  a  loud  voice,  Salvation  to  our  God  which  sitteth 
upon  the  throne,  and  to  the  Lamb. 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S   GAIN   BY   DEATH. 

BY  REV.    ZEPHANIAH  MEEK,    CATLETTSBURG,    KY. 
For  to  me  to  live  is  Christ,  and  to  die  is  gain. — Philippians  i.  21. 

Paul,  a  servant  of  Jesus  Christ,  stands  up  in  his  representative 
character  and  exclaims  :  "  For  to  me  to  live  is  Christ,  and  to  die 
is  gain."  His  language,  therefore,  becomes  the  language  of  every 
true  disciple  of  the  Saviour.  In  this  brief  and  pointed  sentence 
the  apostle  recognizes  the  fact  of  a  personal  providential  care  and 
oversight,  so  much  so  that  life,  with  all  its  blessings,  its  joys  and 
its  sorrows,  depends  upon  the  will  of  Christ.  As  much  as  if  he 
should  say  :  "As  I  have  no  power  over  my  own  life,  and  cannot 
determine  its  duration,  neither  have  I  a  desire  upon  the  subject  ; 
for  whether  I  live  I  live  unto  the  Lord,  or  whether  I  die  I  die 
unto  the  Lord,  Therefore,  whether  I  live  or  die,  I  am  the 
Lord's." 

1.  What  is  it  to  live  P  The  body,  of.  itself,  is  pulseless,  lifeless, 
and  only  has  life  and  vigor  in  connection  with  the  soul,  which 
is  the  active,  essential  principle.  This  life,  or  rather  this  stage  of 
life,  is  dependent  upon  this  mysterious  union  of  soul  and  body. 


216  PULPIT  AND   GRAVE. 

Whether  the  union  of  the  soul  with  the  body  gives  life,  or  whether 
this  union  is  in  consequence  of  the  life,  we  shall  not  now  attempt 
to  determine.  Suffice  it  to  say,  upon  this  point,  that  our  present 
existence,  being  purely  primary  and  preparatory,  this  mysteriously 
blended  form  of  life,  is  under  tutelage  preparatory  to  the  higher 
vocations,  the  sublimer  realities  of  our  real  life — an  eternal  exist- 
ence. 

2.  What  is  it  to  die  P  In  the  earliest  ages  death  was  represented 
under  the  idea  of  a  tyrannical  ruler,  having  vast  power  and  great 
dominion.  The  Jews  before  the  exile  frequently  represented  death 
as  a  hunter,  who  lays  snares  for  men,  spoken  of  by  the  Psalmist  as 
the  snare  of  the  fowler.  But  after  the  exile  they  represented  death 
as  an  angel  with  a  cup  of  poison  in  his  hand,  which  he  reaches  to 
men,  from  which,  doubtless,  we  have  the  expression  in  tho  New 
Testament,  tasted  death.  In  this  age  we  represent  death  as  a 
venerable  man,  with  a  scythe  in  his  hand,  or  as  a  ghastly  skeleton, 
the  latter  of  which  presents  death  in  its  most  hideous  form.  But 
the  question  suggests  itself  to  the  thoughtful  mind,  What  is 
death  ? — or,  to  be  more  specific,  What  dies  ?  If,  as  we  have  be- 
fore stated,  whatever  there  is  of  life — the  soul — is  immortal,  and 
its  separation  from  the  body  results  in  the  latter' s  dissolution — its 
return  to  dust — it  will  be  seen  that  really  nothing  which  has  life  in 
itself  dies. 

Again,  death  in  itself  may  be  as  mysterious  as  life.  We  cannot, 
by  the  most  careful  analysis,  tell  just  what  one  or  the  other  is. 
But  we  know  that  it  means  something  more  than  for  the  heart  to 
cease  its  pulsations  and  all  the  wheels  of  motion  to  stand  still.  It 
is  something  more  than  to  grow  faint  and  weary  and  then  cease  to 
live.  It  is  indeed  the  humiliation  of  the  body,  when  all  its  proud 
honors  are  laid  in  the  dust,  and  its  beauty  and  strength  dissolve 
like  ashes.  But  death  derives  its  awfulness  from  the  fact  that  it 
introduces  us  into  the  presence-chamber  of  the  Judge  of  the  whole 
earth.  It  would  be  a  most  solemn  and  unwelcome  thought  if 
the  physical  pain  felt  in  the  agony  of  death  should  put  an  end  to 
our  being ;  if,  when  we  die,  we  should  cease  to  exist ;  if,  like  the 
falling  meteor,  which  leaves  its  waning  track  along  the  heavens, 
our  light  is  to  be  extinguished  in  the  darkness  of  the  sepulchre, 
never  more  to  be  kindled  ;  if  in  the  last  hour  we  could  only  say 
with  the  dying  atheist :  "  Crown  me  with  flowers,  cover  me  with 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  217 

perfume,  that  I  may  enter  upon  eternal  sleep."  But  to  all  who 
believe  in  the  holy  Scriptures  this  question  is  forever  settled. 
Death  is  not  annihilation  ;  death  is  not  an  eternal  sleep.  Jesus 
Christ  Himself  has  gone  down  into  the  shadowy  regions  of  the 
dead,  and  from  the  gloom  of  the  grave  has  brought  life  and  im- 
mortality to  light.  And  upon  His  authority  we  affirm  :  "It  is 
appointed  unto  man  once  to  die,  and  after  death  the  judgment." 
"When  the  silver  cord  is  loosened,  and  the  golden  bowl  is 
broken,  and  the  pitcher  is  broken  at  the  fountain,  and  the  wheel 
is  broken  at  the  cistern" — "  then  the  dust  returns  to  the  earth  as 
it  was,  and  the  spirit  returns  to  God  who  gave  it."  Oh,  it  is  this 
that  makes  death  such  an  awful  thing  !  It  closes  our  eyes  upon 
this  world,  but  opens  them  upon  another.  It  puts  an  end  to  our 
time,  but  introduces  us  into  eternity.  It  separates  us  from  men, 
but  it  brings  us  face  to  face  with  God.  It  closes  the  term  of 
our  trial  for  life,  and  fixes  our  destiny  unchangeably  and  forever  ! 
In  one  moment  after  we  have  passed  away  we  can  answer  the 
question,  replete  with  the  joys  of  heaven  or  the  miseries  of  perdi- 
tion, Am  I  saved  or  am  I  lost  ? 

Such  is  the  meaning  of  death.  Oh  !  my  friends,  can  you  to-day, 
in  view  of  the  solemn  and  unchangeable  realities  of  death,  adopt 
the  language  of  the  text,  and  say,  "  For  to  me  to  live  is  Christ, 
and  to  die  is  gain  ?" 

3.  Bui  is  the  Christian  to  have  gain  by  death  ?  Is  there  for  me, 
for  you,  another  and  better  state  of  being  ?  Is  there  a  sphere  of 
life  and  of  being  in  which  all  the  inequalities  of  this  life  shall  be 
adjusted  and  its  labors  rewarded  ?  Does  the  evidence  of  my  life 
and  being,  separate  and  independent  from  every  one  else,  in  what 
I  do,  experience  and  suffer,  leave  its  impress  upon  my  higher  des- 
tiny, beyond  the  scenes  and  employments  of  time  ?  Yes,  brethren, 
in  the  aggregate  results  of  all  these  things  in  the  glorious  future 
shall  be  the  grand  fulfilment  of  the  text,  "  to  die  is  gain."  The 
dealings  of  Almighty  God  have  something  more  to  do  than  make 
us  rich,  poor,  noble  or  ignoble  in  the  estimation  of  the  world. 
They  are  further  reaching  than  time  itself.  They  look  to  that 
state  of  preparation  which  will  enable  us  to  joy  even  amid  the  con- 
flagration of  the  world,  and,  if  rightly  improved,  will  enable  us  to 
grow  fresh  and  green  over  the  sepulchre  of  buried  ages.  Oh,  how 
far-reaching  and  enduring  are  the  results  of  this  life,  under  the 


218  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

plan  and  providence  of  God  !  Let  the  mountains  be  moved  from 
their  solid  foundations ;  let  the  thrones,  dominions,  and  govern- 
ments of  the  earth  crumble  and  fall  in  pieces  ;  let  the  great  and  the 
honorable  be  lost  and  merged  in  untitled  names  ;  let  the  world  be 
dead,  and  buried,  and  forgotten,  as  the  silent  ages  of  eternity  look 
down  upon  its  sepulchre,  and  still  the  issues  of  life  will  remain 
unchanged  as  the  truth  of  God  itself — and  here  we  have  the  grand 
summary  of  it  all — "  to  die  is  gain."  Oh,  what  a  promise,  and 
what  a  prospect  to  the  good  is  this  ! 

Look  at  the  mighty  range  of  providence  as  it  begins  with  crea- 
tion and  comes  sweeping  down  the  ages.  Think  of  all  creatures, 
and  all  that  has  been  and  will  ever  be.  Think  of  the  history  of 
this  world  as  it  stands  out  written  upon  the  pages  of  time,  between 
the  two  eternities,  and  then  remember  God  affirms  that  all  together 
shall  bring  their  contributions  of  good  and  lay  them  down  at  the 
Christian's  feet.  "  All  are  yours,  and  ye  are  Christ's,  and  Christ 
is  God's."  Here  is  the  state  to  which  religion  invites  you — to 
thrones,  to  crowns,  to  palms  of  victory,  to  mansions,  to  all.  that 
heaven  means. 

4.  This  gain  is  eternal.  To  the  Christian  death  is  an  end  of 
probation,  of  sorrow,  pain  and  affliction.  It  introduces  him  into 
the  higher  realities  of  life,  into  the  presence  of  God,  the  society  of 
angels  and  the  company  of  the  redeemed.  Here,  amid  the  bowers 
of  the  tree  of  life,  upon  the  shores  of  the  river  which  issues  from 
beneath  the  throne  of  God,  we  shall  find  an  eternal  home.  "  To 
die  is  gain. ' ' 


.       PREPARING  FOR  DEATH. 

BY   WILLIAM    IVES    BUDINGTON,     D.  D. ,    CONNECTICUT. 

So  teach  us  to  number  our  days,  that  we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto  wis- 
dom.—  Psalm  xc.  12. 

This  ninetieth  psalm  was  written  by  Moses.  His  prayer  here 
was  that  God  would  teach  us  so  to  estimate  the  duration  of  human 
life  that  we  would  be  prepared  for  its  termination.  At  the  time  of 
writing  this  psalm  Moses  was  an  old  man.  He  had  seen  his  com- 
panions, one  after  another,  die.     His  sister,  his  brother,  thousands 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  219 

of  the  leaders,  and  hundreds  of  thousands  of  the  people  of  Israel 
had  perished  since  they  had  left  Egypt.  But  two  only  remain. 
Caleb  and  Joshua,  of  all  the  early  companions  of  Moses,  still  sur- 
vive. Because  of  the  certainty  of  death,  Moses  would  have  God 
to  teach  man  to  properly  number  his  days.  God  alone  can  teach 
this  wisdom. 

I  propose  this  prayer  of  Moses  to  the  younger  members  of  this 
congregation  :  you  have  need  of  it.  The  learning  of  this  prayer 
is  the  beginning  of  wisdom.  In  the  midst  of  your  ardent  hopes, 
in  the  heat  of  your  blood,  you  are  in  danger  of  putting  off  a  long 
way  the  termination  of  your  life.  You  can  scarcely  believe  that 
you  are  all  as  liable  to  early  death  as  was  that  one  whose  decease 
has  shot  you  through  and  through  the  past  week.  There  is  a 
numbering  of  days  that  does  not  lead  to  wisdom.  The  atheist 
thinks  of  the  time  when  he  is  to  die,  and  thinks  of  his  death  as 
but  the  blowing  out  of  a  candle.  The  sensualist  partakes  of  new 
pleasures  as  the  fatal  hour  approaches,  like  the  sailors  on  board  of 
a  doomed  vessel  who  rushed  below  and  knocked  in  the  casks  of 
wine  and  waited,  amid  the  revels  of  wildest  dissipation,  for  the  ap- 
proach of  death.  All  know  how  crime  and  excess  abounded  when 
the  plague  raged  in  Athens.  So  in  the  prisons  at  Paris,  during  the 
Reign  of  Terror,  filled  at  night  to  be  emptied  in  the  morning  by 
the  guillotine,  riot  held  sway.  To  them,  death  just  at  hand  was 
an  eternal  sleep.  A  great  emergency  brings  out  what  is  deepest  in 
man.  The  approach  of  death  brings  uppermost,  without  any 
cover  of  hypocrisy,  the  strongest,  the  controlling  motives  of  our 
natures. 

Let  us  consider  how  you  can  so  number  your  days  as  to  be 
wisely  prepared  for  the  ending  of  them. 

1.  By  considering  the  uncertainty  of  life.  No  one  can  tell  when 
death  will  come.  It  cannot  be  safely  guarded  against.  This  un- 
certainty should  impress  upon  you  the  importance  of  preparing 
now  to  meet  it. 

2.  By  considering  the  shortness  of  life.  The  human  language  was 
exhausted  by  the  ancients  to  express  life's  brevity.  Life  is  spoken 
of  as  the  mountain  flood  that  comes  suddenly  and  is  gone  ;  as  the 
grass  in  desert  lands  that  springs  up  after  the  shower  and  then 
quickly  withers  ;  as  the  tale  that  is  told  to  while  away  the  hours 
of  the  travellers  crossing  the  wilderness,  and  then  forgotten  when 


220  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

the  journey  is  past ;  a  declining  shadow  ;  a  swift  post,  now  com- 
ing, here,  gone  ;  water  spilt  on  the  ground  ;  weaver's  shuttle,  etc. 

Dr.  Franklin  said  the  longer  he  lived  the  more  rapidly  time 
seemed  to  pass  away,  until  like  the  filing  of  ranks  of  soldiers  before 
him  the  years  from  the  sixtieth  to  seventieth,  from  seventieth  to 
eightieth  of  his  life  passed.  Ask  God  that  you  may  know  that 
you  are  not  to  be  satisfied  with  time  ;  you  were  made  to  live  for 
immortality — to  live  when  the  stars  fail,  to  pass  aloft  and  beyond 
forevermore  when  the  temporal  has  dissolved.  Ask  God  that  you 
may  consider  His  eternity.  Some  one  has  said  that  the  light 
which  sped  from  this  earth  when  it  was  chaos  and  the  light  which 
has  sped  from  it  since,  in  its  different  stages,  is  speeding  on  in  the 
universe  for  evermore,  carrying  with  it  the  picture  of  each  event  of 
development  that  has  transpired  on  earth.  Think  of  an  Omnipo- 
tent eye  that  can  grasp  all  this  endless  stream  of  speeding  light, 
carrying  the  separate  pictures  ;  that  eye  will  have  the  whole  his- 
tory of  the  world  forever  before  it.  God  has  the  omnipotence  of 
vision.  Endeavor  to  grasp  this,  as  it  will  help  you  to  grasp  the 
omnipotence  of  His  duration.  This  eternity  that  He  is  to  live 
you  are  to  live  ;  you  have  been  created  immortal. 

Above  all,  ask  God  to  teach  you  to  number  your  days,  that  you 
will  believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Put  your  hand  in  Christ's 
hand.  There  is  life  in  the  touch.  A  strong  man  breathes  the 
breath  of  a  dying  child.  There  is  poison  in  the  breath.  The 
strong  frame  weakens,  quivers,  dies.  We  are  affected  by  coming 
into  contact  with  others.  Let  but  faith  bring  your  hand  to  touch 
Christ's,  and  an  immortal  life  will  course  through  your  veins. 
The  touch  of  an  affectionate  faith  can  bring  the  dead  to  life.  In 
the  first  instance  it  is  an  act,  it  may  be  but  a  feeble  act  ;  but  act 
after  act  will  bring  your  soul  into  a  constant,  living  contact  with 
Christ. 

Do  you  now  hesitate  ?  Then  have  you  come  to  the  forking  of 
the  roads  of  your  eternal  destiny.  Put  forth  this  act  of  faith  while 
I  am  now  speaking  to  you.  Put  forth  act  after  act  until  it  be- 
comes a  habit,  and  your  union  with  Christ  will  be  perfect.  What 
can  be  more  important  than  this  act  of  trust  ?  I  urge  you  to  it  to- 
night. I  beseech  you  in  the  name  of  Christ.  I  beseech  you  in 
view  of  eternity.  I  urge  you  to  follow  Him  who  made  duty  the 
law  of  His  life,  who  marched  to  death  to  rescue  you  from  death. 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  221 

and  who  has  triumphed  over  death  and  is  seated  at  the  right  hand 
of  the  power  of  God,  making  daily  intercession  for  you. 

Thus,  Jesus  is  ready  to  lift  you  up  to-night  to  Himself.  Will 
you  not  stretch  out  a  hand  and  grasp  His  outstretched  hand,  and 
feel  the  first  pulse  of  eternal  life  throbbing  in  your  heart  ? 


ABIDING  AND   DEPARTING. 

BY    ALEXANDER    M'KENZIE,    D.D. ,     CAMBRIDGE,     MASS. 

For  I  am  in  a  strait  betwixt  two,  having  a  desire  to  depart  and  to  be  with 
Christ ;  which  is  far  better.  Nevertheless  to  abide  in  the  Jlesh  is  more  need- 
ful for  you. — Philippians  i.  23,  24. 

I.  Earth  and  its  claims  upon  us. 

1.  The  joys  of  life.  Without  controversy,  heaven  is  better  than 
this  world.  The  soul  expands  in  freer  air.  Days  of  trial,  of  in- 
firmity, are  past.  Conflict,  discord,  temptation  are  left  behind. 
But  we  are  now  in  a  world  that  was  made  good,  and,  marred  as  it 
is,  still  has  its  sacred  joys,  its  purity,  its  divine  ministries,  its  blessed 
discipline,  its  dignity,  and  worth  and  beauty.  Life  is  not  so  sad, 
so  desolate,  that  we  need  be  impatient  to  break  with  it. 

2.  The  needs  of  the  world.  The  poor  are  here  asking  our  alms  ; 
the  weeping  whom  we  may  comfort  ;  the  erring  whom  we  may 
lead.  The  world  is  to  be  brought  back  to  God,  and  how  shall 
that  be  if  the  good  make  haste  to  desert  it  ?  Good  men  are  so 
rare,  and  the  world  so  large  ;  the  harvest  so  plenteous  and  the 
laborers  so  few  !  This  father,  beloved,  revered — how  essential  his 
life  !  He  looks  up,  and  Christ  waits,  and  the  angels.  He  looks 
around,  and  trustful  hearts  cling  to  him.  This  mother,  the  heart 
of  the  home,  so  strong  in  her  gentleness,  so  gentle  in  her  strength 
— how  fitting  that  she  should  make  heaven  more  fragrant  with  her 
presence  !  But  what  shall  be  the  home  when  she  has  ascended  ? 
Heaven  is  rich  in  saintly  women.  Is  not  this  world  more  in  need 
of  those  who  remain  ?  This  aged  saint — shall  it  not  be  given  her 
now  to  glide  into  the  freshness  of  youth,  to  range  the  sweet  plains 
on  the  banks  of  the  crystal  river,  in  companionship  with  those  who 
shared  her. life,  in  the  presence  of  her  loved  Saviour?     Ah  !  but 


PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 


the  world  needs  the  old.     We  need  to  see  every  day  the  treasures 
which  virtue  may  lay  up  for  the  time  of  age. 

3.  The  purpose  of  life.  Neither  life  here,  nor  life  to  come,  is 
alone  desirable.  For  a  wise  purpose,  the  existence  which  is  never 
to  end  has  its  beginning  amid  these  lowly  scenes.  Life  here  is  to 
be  esteemed  of  great  value,  to  be  guarded  with  care,  and  used  with 
diligence.  St.  Paul  showed  his  estimate  of  life  by  the  pains  he 
took  to  preserve  it.  This  world  is  a  field  in  which  we  are  to  do 
our  first  works  for  God.  Here  we  are  trained.  While  we  are  here 
we  can  honor  God  more  by  doing  His  will  than  by  begging  for 
release.  Those  are  wise  words  written  by  Thomas  Shepard  :  "A 
man  that  will  needs  to  bed  at  noonday,  before  night  comes,  what 
needs  he  but  a  cudgel.  So  he  that  will  die  before  his  night 
comes. 

II.  Heaven  and  its  attractions. 

We  have  presented  one  side  of  the  case  ;  but  there  is  another  to 
be  considered.  The  spiritual  life  awaiting  the  children  of  God  is 
higher  and  surer  than  this.  Our  treasure  is  to  be  laid  up  in  heaven, 
our  hope  to  be  within  the  veil.  Home  is  to  be  above  ;  rest  is  there. 
The  severed  saints  shall  be  united  where  the  sadness  of  parting  is 
never  known,  and  the  redeemed  shall  be  forever  with  the  Lord.  The 
poor  earth  renders  up  its  choicest  treasures  for  the  faint  similitude 
of  the  celestial  magnificence.  Imagination  soars  on  its  strongest 
wing  and  is  lost  in  the  radiance  of  the  supernal  heights.  If 
Socrates  could  discourse  on  death  with  calmness,  and  say,  "  I 
entertain  a  good  hope  that  something  awaits  those  who  die,  and 
that  it  will  be  far  better  for  the  good  than  the  evil, ' '  what  should 
be  the  confidence  of  one  who  can  say  :  "  For  we  know  . 
we  have  a  building  of  God,  a  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal 
in  the  heavens  !" 

Thinking  thus  that  both  worlds  are  good,  and  each  the  best  for 
us  in  its  own  time,  we  have  no  call  to  be  distressed  if  we  are  sum- 
moned speedily  away  or  are  bidden  to  remain. 

III.  Death  and  its  work  upon  us. 

"  Earth  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes" — that  is  not  death.  Even  what 
there  is  in  that  is  not  final,  for  the  resurrection  ransoms  the  body 
from  the  grave.  Death  is  far  more  a  going  on  than  any  going 
back.  Yet  it  is  too  solemn  an  event  to  be  sought.  When  it 
passes  on  the  body,  the  time  of  making  ready  for  another  world  is 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  223 

ended.  The  beginning  of  faith  and  penitence  and  life  is  in  the 
world  of  spirits. 

But  if  we  are  Christ's,  death  ushers  us  into  such  grand  scenes 
that  we  should  not  be  found  reluctant  to  depart,  or  unsubmissive 
when  our  friends  enter  the  glory.  The  mariner  finds  the  most 
perilous  places  near  shore,  yet  is  he  glad  of  the  sight  of  the  head- 
land. Even  so  could  our  Lord  forget  that  His  path  lay  through 
Gethsemane  and  over  Calvary,  hearing  the  welcome  of  angels,  the 
greeting  of  divine  affection. 

But  our  sins — our  poor  life  which  shrivels  before  the  judgment 
of  God's  great  day!  "Every  one  of  us  shall  give  account  of 
himself  to  God."  Yet,  if  we  be  Christ's,  we  bear  not  our  sins 
with  us  to  that  reckoning.  "  Who  shall  lay  anything  to  the 
charge  of  God's  elect  ?"  The  faithful  disciple  goes  to  be  with  Him 
who  has  been  loved,  trusted,  served.  The  early  Christians  would 
not  write  death,  or  make  its  sign  upon  the  tomb  of  the  brother- 
hood. They  wrote,  "In  Christ,"  "In  peace,"  "  Victorious  in 
Christ,"  etc.  Christ  sends  His  messenger  to  bring  us  to  Himself. 
He  comes  veiled,  perhaps  shrouded  in  black,  but  He  will  conduct 
us  to  the  Lord. 


AFFLICTIONS   NOT  ACCIDENTAL. 

BY  REV.  JOHN  BURTON,  ENGLAND. 

For  the  Lord  will  not  cast  off  forever  :  but  though  He  cause  grief,  yet  will 
He  have  compassion  according  to  the  multitude  of  His  mercies.  For  He  doth 
not  afflict  willingly  nor  grieve  the  children  of  men. — Lamentations  in. 
31-33- 

This  apparent  contradiction  between  divine  compassion  and  our 
human  griefs  has  but  one  solution  :  man,  as  he  actually  is,  is  under 
providential  training  for  what  it  is  possible  for  him  to  be  come. 

I.   Grief  the  heritage  of  man. 

There  are  the  peculiar  troubles  of  each  individual.  All  men, 
in  whatever  else  they  differ,  agree  in  this,  that  they  are  alike  born 
heirs  to  a  patrimony  of  sorrow.  "  Man  is  born  unto  trouble  as 
the  sparks  fly  upward. ' '  Then  there  are  the  troubles  which  afflict 
the  community,  the  pestilence,  the  famine,  the  war,  the  financial 
panic.     And  there  are  the  troubles  which  overtake  us  in  the  form 


224  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

of  sudden  calamities,  accidents,  shipwrecks,  fires,  etc.,  the  "  terri- 
ble things  of  God.  "  For  more  than  sixty  centuries  this  planet,  at 
every  turn  of  its  axis,  has  spread  before  the  eyes  of  the  All-merci- 
ful a  scene  of  universal  suffering,  an  "  Iliad  of  woes."  If  in  this 
huge  complex  of  human  grief  the  guilty  only  suffered,  one  might 
at  once  suppose  a  natural  Providence  were  guarding  the  rights  of 
the  virtuous.  But  "  there  is  no  discharge  in  this  war. "  "  There 
is  one  event  to  the  righteous  and  to  the  wicked." 

Let  us  bear  in  mind  that  we  have  been  speaking  of  facts,  not  of 
causes  or  theories.  To  the  sceptic  or  infidel  and  to  the  Christian 
philosopher  they  are  equally  facts,  to  be  accounted  for.  They  are 
not  the  coinage  of  the  Christian  faith.  If  thinking  matter  or 
materialized  thought  be  God,  still  it  is  a  God  under  whose  creative 
auspices  man  is  born  into  a  world  of  trouble.  The  problem  is  not 
solved.  In  either  view,  man's  life  is  a  riddle  sternly  realistic — 
with,  however,  this  stupendous  difference,  that  on  one  view  the 
key  that  unlocks  this  mystery  is  furnished  ;  on  the  other  view,  no 
key  exists. 

II.   The  divine  compassion  in  its  relation  to  suffering. 

i.  All  human  suffering  comes  within  the  foreknowledge  and  is  under 
the  control  0/ God.  While  suffering  in  its  origin  and  affliction  does 
always  hinge  on  to  secondary  causes  in  the  fatalities  and  falsities 
of  man,  those  secondary  causes  do  always,  immediately  or  re- 
motely, fasten  on  to  the  purpose  of  God.  Somehow  and  some- 
where and  for  some  purpose,  there  is  running  all  through  this 
seething  mass  of  what  appears  little  else  than  a  complexity  of  sor- 
rowful accidents,  the  activity  of  a  prescient  forethought,  a  permis- 
sive providence,  a  governing  will.  "  The  curse  causeless  shall  not 
come. ' '  The  writers  of  the  Old  Testament  are  never  more  em- 
phatic than  in  their  assertion  of  this  double  parentage  of  human 
sorrow.  They  teach  that  the  plan  of  Providence  takes  in  the  uni- 
verse as  a  whole,  and  yet  the  individual  is  never  forgotten.  He 
"■  worketh  all  things."  The  sudden  blow  that  takes  away  the  life 
of  my  friend  •  the  accidental  slip  or  shot  ;  the  explosion,  the 
shipwreck,  the  collision,  the  conflagration,  are  contingencies  to 
us,  but  they  may  have  a  direct  relation  to  the  hidden  purposes  of 
God.  "  A  certain  man  drew  a  bow  at  a  venture,  and  it  smote 
Ahab,  the  king  of  Israel,  between  the  joints  of  his  harness,  so  that 
he  died."     It  was  a  chance  shot,  and  yet  the  track  of  that  arrow 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  225 

was  foreseen  and  its  issue  directed.  There  can  be  no  accident  in 
the  scheme  of  infinite  thought,  no  surprise  to  the  intelligence  that 
infinitely  knows.  We  see  only  results.  To  God  the  beginning, 
with  its  antecedents  all  hidden  and  remote,  is  a  presence. 

2.  ]\Iany  of  our  troubles  have  their  causes  in  ourselves.  They 
come  within  the  divine  plan,  not  as  visitations  which  God  fore- 
ordains and  directly  inflicts,  but  as  actualities  which  He  foresees, 
emergent  in  the  history  of  man.  Providence  is  the  action  of  God 
through  law  ;  and  as  a  rule,  providential  laws  work  best  for  him 
who  works  the  best  with  them.  They  work,  it  may  be,  silently 
and  secretly,  but  they  work  surely  against  him  who  works  against 
them.  A  man  is  intemperate.  Very  well.  Subsequent  temper- 
ance may  alleviate,  but  not  exonerate  from,  the  penalty  of  a  long 
course  of  riotous  living.  The  mind  neglected  in  early  youth  can 
never  afterward  become  what  it  would  have  been  if  properly 
trained.  So  in  the  ordinary  visitations  of  affliction.  In  number- 
less instances  they  are  a  self-inflicted  visitation.  We  not  only 
drink  the  bitter  cup,  but  we  supply  and  mix  all  its  ingredients. 

2.  There  are  ??iany  afflictions  which  come  as  the  punishment  for  sin. 
There  are  moral  statutes  in  the  government  of  God  over  men,  as 
there  are  physical  laws  in  man's  government  over  himself.  And 
as  infraction  of  the  one  class  entails  suffering,  so  infraction  of  the 
other  class  brings  punishment.  "  Though  hand  join  in  hand,  the 
wicked  shall  not  go  unpunished."  "  Remember  that  thou  keep 
holy  the  Sabbath  day."  How  far  as  a  nation,  how  far  as  individ- 
uals, do  we  keep  this  law  ?  Look  at  the  sin  of  intemperance,  and 
of  open,  unblushing  ungodliness.  And  is  not  one  of  the  crying 
sins  of  the  age  its  intense  worldliness,  its  utter  absorption  in  the 
things  of  sense  ? 

Reflections  : 

1.  In  view  of  these  conclusions,  is  not  the  first  sentiment  which 
ought  to  fill  our  minds  that  of  profound  thankfulness  for  the  reve- 
lation in  which  the  origin  and  purpose  of  all  human  suffering  are 
made  known  ? 

2.  Let  us  always  recollect  this,  that  God's  dealings  with  us  are 
regulated  and  should  be  interpreted  by  the  fact  that  we  are  a  race 
of  sinners.  Man  is  at  war  with  his  Maker.  In  such  a  strife  on 
the  one  side,  there  must  be  resistance  on  the  other.  God  will  not 
vacate  His  sovereignty  because  man  rebels. 


226  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

DEATH    OF   BELIEVERS. 

BY    B.     M.     PALMER,    D.D.,    NEW    ORLEANS. 

And  if  Christ  be  in  you,  the  body  is  dead  because  of  sin  ;  but  the  Spirit  is 
life,  because  of  righteousness.  But  if  the  Spirit  of  Him  that  raised  up  fesus 
from  the  dead  dwell  in  you,  He  that  raised  tip  Christ  from  the  dead  shall  also 
quicken  your  mortal  bodies  by  His  Spirit  that  dwelleth  in  you. — Romans 
viii.  10,  ii. 

A  plausible  objection  may  be  urged  that,  as  the  Apostle  de- 
clares death  to  be  the  evidence  of  guilt,  he  cannot  consistently  say, 
in  the  case  of  the  dying  believer,  "  there  is  no  condemnation." 
The  answer  is  twofold  :  In  the  case  of  the  believer  there  is  death 
of  the  body  alone  ;  and  the  dominion  of  death  even  over  this  is 
only  temporary. 

I.   Why  does  death  pass  upon  the  body  of  the  Christian  ? 

1.  The  body  is  the  instrument  through  which  we  sin,  and  a  provoca- 
tive to  sin.  If  it  were  not  for  the  eye  leering  with  jealousy  or 
flashing  with  revenge  ;  if  it  were  not  for  the  hand  dealing  with 
violence  and  fraud  ;  if  it  were  not  for  the  feet  swift  to  shed  blood  ; 
if  it  were  not  for  the  tongue  tripping  with  the  vocables  of  the  pit, 
the  soul  might  be  full  of  sin,  but  of  sin  never  revealed  to  others  to 
the  dishonor  of  God.  The  body  is  thoroughly  implicated  in  all 
the  sin  a  man  commits.  It  is  fitting  then  that  God  should  put 
upon  it  the  mark  of  His  displeasure. 

2.  It  is  not  the  design  of  grace  to  remove  evil  out  of  the  world,  but 
to  convert  it  into  a  means  of  discipline.  Poverty,  pain,  sickness,  be- 
reavement, are  not  removed  from  the  Christian,  but  are  made  to 
minister  to  his  spiritual  growth.  Death  comes  in  the  same  cate- 
gory. 

3.  The  body  must  die  that,  by  being  sanctified,  it  may  be  fit  led  for 
the  world  of  glory.  As  under  the  old  dispensation  a  house  infected 
with  leprosy  was  first  dismantled,  stone  being  taken  from  stone  and 
beam  from  beam,  and  was  not  rebuilt  until  each  part  had  been 
carefully  scraped  to  remove  the  fretting  disease,  so  God  deals  with 
these  defiled  bodies.      (1  Cor.  xv.  50,  53,  54  ;  v.  44.) 

4.  The  sudden  translation  of  believers  would  subvert  the  principle  of 
grace.  All  the  succeeding  steps  of  the  Christian's  course  must  be 
repetitions  of  the  act  of  faith,  until  he  reaches  that  step  which 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  227 

must  be  the  last  and  severest  test.  It  is  the  fundamental  principle 
of  the  scheme  of  salvation.  (Gal.  ii.  20  ;  Heb.  xi.  6.)  Sup- 
pose now  every  Christian  were  taken  up  bodily  to  heaven,  would 
there  not  have  to  be  a  constant  intervention  of  the  supernatural, 
superseding  the  faith  which  God  requires  ? 

5.  The  translation  of  believers  would  anticipate  the  judgment  day. 
Should  God  put  this  visible  distinction  between  believers  and  un- 
believers, we  would  all  know,  of  course,  in  this  world,  the  eternal 
destinies  of  both.  Could  we  bear  the  knowledge  ?  Would  it  not 
disintegrate  society  and  unfit  every  human  being  for  the  duties  of 
this  life  ?  Shall  the  glory  of  the  resurrection  day,  the  coronation 
day  of  our  Lord,  be  given  us  piecemeal  ? 

II.   Why  is  the  body  to  be  raised  again  ? 

It  is  remarkable,  the  stress  laid  in  the  New  Testament  upon  the 
resurrection  of  the  body.  (See  Acts  xvii.  30,  32  ;  ii.  23-32  ; 
Phil.  iii.  20,  21  ;   1  Thess.  iv.  14-18.) 

1 .  The  body  will  be  raised  because  equally  with  the  soul  redeemed  by 
Christ  and  united  to  Him. 

a.  The  body,  as  a  constituent  part  of  us,  must  be  as  truly 
redeemed  as  the  soul.  Without  the  body  man  ceases  to  be  man. 
The  separation  of  soul  and  body  is  unnatural,  and  hence  the 
horror  of  death  instinctively  felt  by  all  men. 

b.  Christ  assumed  human  nature,  body  as  well  as  soul,  and  we 
are  united  to  Him  in  both.  (See  Rom.  vi.  5  ;  1  Cor.  xv.  20  ; 
Eph.  v.  30.) 

c.  The  curse  of  sin  has  fallen  upon  the  body  as  well  as  upon  the 
soul,  equally  necessitating  its  redemption.  (See  Gen.  iii.  16-18  ; 
Rom.  viii.  23.) 

d.  The  Scriptures  bear  special  testimony  to  the  redemption  of 
the  body,  and  to  its  union  with  Christ.  (See  Isa.  xxvi.  19  ;  Rom. 
i.  3,  4  ;  viii.  19,  23  ;  Eph.  v.  30  ;   1  Cor.  vi.  15.) 

2.  The  body  will  be  raised  because  of  the  indwelling  of  the  Holy 
Ghost. 

a.  Because  it  is  the  Holy  Ghost's  prerogative  to  impart  life. 
He  is  the  author  of  physical  life,  from  the  atom  floating  in  the 
sunbeam  to  the  angel  whom  John  saw  standing  in  the  sun.  No 
less  is  he  the  author  of  intellectual  life.  All  the  strength  of  reason 
and  brilliancy  of  imagination  owe  their  triumphs  to  the  actuating 
energy  of  the  Spirit  of  God. 


228  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

b.  The  Holy  Ghost  is  the  bond  by  which  the  believer  is  united 
with  Jesus  Christ. 

c  The  body  of  the  saint  is  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
(i  Cor.  iii.  1 6,  17  ;  vi.  19  ;  2  Cor.  vi.  16.)  The  body  dis- 
mantled and  dissolving  in  the  grave  is  a  temple  still,  though  a 
temple  in  ruins. 

d.  The  Holy  Spirit  is  the  sanctifier,  and  by  virtue  of  this  office 
will  raise  the  bodies  of  them  that  sleep  in  Jesus. 

Remarks  : 

1.  These  moral  grounds  of  the  resurrection  satisfy  us  of  its  cer- 
tainty, and  bear  us  over  all  the  difficulties  by  which  it  is  invested. 
All  the  objections  ever  urged  against  the  resurrection  are  objec- 
tions drawn  from  our  ignorance. 

2.  The  comfort  is  precious  which  flows  from  these  truths  in 
view  of  death,  both  to  ourselves  and  to  those  we  love. 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  VICTORY   OVER   DEATH. 

BY    REV.     JOHN    LOGAN,     ENGLAND. 

0  deaf  A,   where  is  thy  sting?     0  grave,  where  is  thy  victory?     .     , 
Thanks  be  to   God,  which  giveth   its  the  victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ. — 1  Corinthians  xv.  55,  57. 

It  is  the  glory  of  the  Christian  religion  that  it  abounds  with 
consolations  under  all  the  evils  of  life  ;  nor  is  its  benign  influence 
confined  to  the  course  of  life,  but  even  extends  to  death  itself.  It 
delivers  us  from  the  agony  of  the  last  hour,  sets  us  free  from  the 
fears  which  then  perplex  the  mind,  from  the  horrors  which  haunt 
the  offender,  and  from  all  the  darkness  which  involves  our  mortal 
state.  So  complete  is  the  victory  we  obtain  that  Jesus  Christ  is 
said  in  Scripture  to  have  abolished  death. 

1 .  Christ  gives  us  victory  over  death  by  delivering  us  from  the  doubts 
and  fears  arising  from  uncertainty  regarding  the  future  state. 

Without  divine  revelation  men  wandered  in  the  dark  regarding  an 
after-life.  The  light  of  nature  shed  but  a  feeble  light  on  the 
region  beyond  the  grave.  For  whence  could  reason  derive  any 
knowledge  of  immortality  ?  Consult  with  nature,  and  destruction 
seems  to  be  one  of  its  great  laws.     The  species  remains,  but  the 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  237 

II.  Is  THERE  ANY  REMEDY  FOR  OUR  HEAVY  AFFLICTION  ? 

1.  We  should  seek  after  larger  measures  of  grace.  Thanks  be 
to  God,  "  we  may  come  boldly  unto  the  throne  of  grace,  that  we 
may  obtain  mercy,  and  find  grace  to  help  in  time  of  need."  If 
we  so  do,  our  grief  shall  last  only  through  a  night,  and  joy  shall 
come  in  the  morning.  Is  it  nothing  that  you  have  a  child  in 
heaven  ?  Are  the  consolations  of  God  small  with  thee  ?  God 
does  not  stint  us  in  the  bestowment  of  grace,  but  He  gives  no 
more  than  we  use.  To  him  that  uses  shall  be  given,  and  he  shall 
have  more  abundantly. 

2.  We  should  look  at  what  death  has  been  instrumental  in  accom- 
plishing for  the  child.  And  what  is  this  ?  Death  has  removed  her 
from  all  the  uncertainty,  sickness,  pain,  sorrow,  and  change  that 
belong  even  to  the  brightest  and  happiest  life  here  on  earth. 
Through  the  gateway  of  death  her  spirit  has  ascended  to  God,  who 
gave  it.  She  is  now  a  full  sharer  in  the  glorified  bliss  of  heaven. 
She  dwells  where  Jesus  is,  and  in  full  possession  of  eternal  life. 
Oh,  if  we  could  only  see  more  clearly  the  place  she  occupies  in 
heaven,  the  grand  capacities  and  possibilities  of  life  opened  to  her, 
her  early  removal  from  us  would  have  in  it  less  of  anguish  and 
more  of  consolation  !  To-day,  clad  in  garments  whiter  than  the 
snow,  she  sings  with  sweeter  voice  than  has  e'er  been  heard  upon 
earth,  and  bears  a  vocal  part  in  that  grand  symphony  of  heaven  : 
"  Unto  Him  that  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  His 
own  blood,  and  hath  made  us  kings  and  priests  unto  God  and 
His  Father  :  to  Him  be  glory  and  dominion  forever  and  ever. 
Amen." 


THE  TENT  HOME  AND  THE  ETERNAL  HOME. 

BY   THEODORE    L.     CUYLER,    D.  D. ,     BROOKLYN. 

Therefore,  we  are  always  confident,  knowing  that  whilst  we  are  at  home 
in  the  body  we  are  absent  from  the  Lord. — 2  Corinthians  v.  6. 

Our  body  is  our  tent  home  ;  heaven  is  our  eternal  home. 
Eighty  years  this  may  last — generally  but  thirty  years.  How 
many  have  patched  up  this  tabernacle,  and  by  close  and  careful 
watching  preserved  it  a  few  years  more  !  Dust-bound  at  sixty,  it 
begins  to  decay.     How  old  you  are  !     How  changed  you  look  ! 


238  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

The  tent  is  failing.  Soon  we  will  have  notice  to  quit.  Every  day 
I  see  these  deserted  homes — the  inhabitants  gone  forever  to  a 
higher  habitation. 

i.  These  homes  are  itinerating.  I  see  few  faces  here  which  I  saw 
fifteen  years  ago.  Many  have  gone  to  other  parts.  We  are  always 
on  the  march.  In  the  Orient  the  piles  of  ashes,  the  tent-poles, 
marking  the  place  where  some  one  has  tented  for  a  night,  are  fre- 
quently visible.  One  day  some  other  pastor  will  come  here  and 
see  the  ashes  and  the  tent-poles  of  my  stay. 

2.  The  frailty  of  this  earthly  tent.  This  but  heightens  the  idea 
of  the  permanence  of  our  home  beyond.  One  could  have  said, 
"  Paul,  you  are  homesick  ;  you  have  no  home,  no  family,  no 
one  but  Jesus. ' '  Old  and  gray-headed  Apostle,  no  wonder  your 
eye  was  fixed  above,  far  over  the  Mediterranean  Sea.  Here  was  a 
hero  going  home,  to  a  home  God  from  the  eternities  built,  an 
abiding  home,  an 'everlasting  rest.  It  hath  no  sun,  no  moon. 
Jesus  is  its  light. 

3.  The  soul-home  is  where  Christ  and  the  people  meet.  Heaven  is 
a  place  ;  I  have  no  sympathy  with  the  philosophy  that  makes  it  a 
condition.  An  abstraction  is  no  home.  I  believe  it  is  a  place  as 
definite  in  location  as  London  or  Paris.  Bunyan  dreamed,  but 
John  says,  "  I  saw."  The  moment  I  let  go  the  literal  translation 
I  let  go  my  home.  Is  the  soul  degraded  by  dwelling  in  a  local 
heaven  ?  Is  it  degraded  by  dwelling  in  the  body  ?  Have  you  not 
kissed  the  frail  home  of  clay,  silent,  beautiful  in  death,  and  felt 
confident  that  to  leave  that  tent  was  to  be  at  home  with  the  Lord  ? 
That  hope  was  as  an  anchor. 

The  many  mansions  show  that  elective  affinities  may  exist  there. 
Families  may  be  together.  Emmons  desired  to  talk  with  Paul, 
and  why  not  ?  Will  we  not  be  looking  for  old  acquaintances  ? 
Happy  will  we  be  if  we  find  some  one  we  brought  there. 

4.  But  our  entrance  is  not  yel.  We  are  still  in  the  body.  Is 
your  name  in  that  Lamb's  Book  of  Life  ?  Let  us  make  ready  to 
go  to  that  home.  The  negro  judged  his  master  had  not  gone 
home  to  heaven  because  he  never  talked  about  it.  We  must  learn 
something  about  it  How  can  we  learn  if  we  do  not  converse 
about  it  ? 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  239 


THE    HEAVENLY   WORLD. 

BY   J.     M.     SHERWOOD,     D.  D. ,     BROOKLYN. 
For  there  shall  be  no  night  there. — Revelation  xxi.  25. 

This  is  said  of  heaven,  the  eternal  home  of  the  blessed.  It  is 
scarcely  in  the  power  of  language  to  express  in  so  few  words  a 
more  vivid  and  comprehensive  description  of  the  characteristics  of 
that  life,  both  in  its  physical  and  spiritual  aspects.  The  imagery 
is  poetic,  and  yet  appeals  to  our  intensest  experiences.  "  Light  is 
sweet,  and  a  pleasant  thing  it  is  for  the  eyes  to  behold  the  sun." 
Light  is  the  Scripture  emblem  of  God,  of  happiness,  and  glory  ; 
while  darkness  impersonates  sin,  death,  hell,  the  very  genius  of 
evil,  brooding  over  a  world  of  sighs  and  desolation  and  chaos. 
Heaven  and  light,  heaven  and  everlasting  day  ;  hell  and  outer 
darkness,  hell  and  one  eternal  night  of  gloom,  are  the  ultimate 
final  states  of  the  righteous  and  the  wicked. 

Amid  the  gloom  and  sadness  natural  to  this  occasion,  we  are 
invited  to  look  up  and  beyond  the  confines  of  earth  and  behold 
the  day  everlasting  flooding  all  the  fields  of  immortality  with  celes- 
tial radiance.  Let  us  view  the  contrast  between  this  present  world 
and  that. 

1.  There  is  no  night  of  ignorance  in  heaven.  Darkness  fittingly 
represents  a  state  of  mental  and  spiritual  ignorance.  Darkness  is 
not  a  substance  ;  only  the  absence  of  light.  Can  you  conceive  of 
a  state  more  appalling  to  a  rational  creature  than  a  state  of  igno- 
rance, a  mind  unillumined  with  the  rays  of  knowledge  and  wis- 
dom, groping  in  gross  darkness  through  probation  down  to  death 
and  eternity,  and  that,  too,  while  sun  and  stars  shine  in  the 
heavens?  Even  the  Christian,  in  this  life,  sees  but  "in  part." 
The  vision  is  dim,  imperfect  ;  the  revelation  is  not  finished.  But 
finished  it  will  be  there/  Not  a  cloud  will  obscure  the  sky.  The 
horizon  of  knowledge  will  be  vastly  enlarged.  The  dark  things  of 
this  life  will  be  cleared  up.  It  will  be  twilight  no  longer,  but  per- 
fect day. 

2.  No  flight  of  error  in  heaven.  In  the  darkness  we  lose  our 
way,  wander  we  know  not  where,  and  peril  life  at  every  step. 
Now  error  is  darkness,  a  worse  darkness  than  ignorance,  for  it  is  a 


240  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

blinding,  perverting,  misleading  substance.  It  causes  millions  to 
go  astray  from  the  truth,  from  life,  and  to  fall  into  sin,  into  perdi- 
tion. None  are  exempt  from  error  in  this  world.  Where  there 
is  sin,  imperfect  knowledge,  imperfect  sanctiflcation,  error  will 
assert  its  power.  How  many  Christian  characters  are  tarnished  by 
error  in  one  form  or  another  !  How  many  tears  flow  over  the  sins 
and  wrongs  and  evils  which  errors  work  in  the  lives  of  the  good  ! 
But  there  will  be  no  error  in  heaven,  no  lurking  seeds  of  evil  in 
the  soul,  no  doubt  or  uncertainty  in  any  part  of  revelation.  Abso- 
lute light  will  cover  and  fill  and  permeate  every  thought  and  feeling 
and  experience. 

3.  No  night  of  sin  in  heaven.  Sin  is  darkness  itself,  midnight 
darkness,  darkness  that  may  be  felt  ;  darkness  in  the  soul  and 
darkness  in  the  world  ;  is  the  prelude  to  that  "  outer  darkness," 

•  that  "  blackness  of  darkness"  which  is  to  be  the  portion  of  the 
ungodly.  Is  it  any  marvel  that  such  multitudes  who  give  them- 
selves to  a  life  of  sin  should  "  stumble  on  the  dark  mountain  of 
sin  and  perish"  ?  Not  even  the  believer  escapes  all  darkness 
here.  Sin  is  brought  under,  but  not  eradicated.  He  aims  at  per- 
fection, but  alas,  how  far  short  does  he  come  !  He  often  has 
occasion  to  wet  his  couch  with  his  tears  of  penitence  ;  to  exclaim 
with  Paul,  "O  wretched  man  that  I  am,  who  shall  deliver  me 
from  the  body  of  this  death"  ?  The  night  is  often  dark  and  the 
soul  travails  in  sorrow.  But  yonder  on  the  other  side  of  the  river 
there  is  no  night.  There  is  no  sin  there,  no  moral  imperfection. 
The  heart  is  pure,  the  surroundings  are  pure,  the  atmosphere  is 
purity  itself,  the  very  heavens  reflect  purity  in  the  beams  of  divine 
effulgence.  Blessed  be  God,  the  night  is  past,  the  day  has  come, 
and  such  a  day  !  Such  light  and  peace  and  joy  and  blessedness, 
unmixed,  perpetual,  abounding  more  and  more  eternally  ! 

4.  No  night  of  conflict  in  heaven.  Where  there  is  ignorance,  im- 
perfection, sin,  there  must  be  a  state  of  conflict  on  the  part  of  the 
Christian.  Hence  this  life  is  a  severe,  constant,  painful  warfare, 
even  down  to  the  gates  of  death.  There  is  no  rest  in  this  warfare, 
no  intermission,  no  cessation.  "Watch  and  pray,"  ever  striving 
against  principalities  and  powers,  ever  with  armor  on  facing  the  foe 
and  contending  for  the  prize.  The  strife  of  battle,  the  clash  of 
arms,  wounds  and  fears,  are  the  conditions  of  this  life.  But  in 
yonder  world  all  this  will  be  changed.     Not  one  element  of  strife 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  241 

or  conflict  can  ever  enter  the  celestial  gates.  The  war  will  be 
ended  and  the  victor  will  there  be  crowned.  There  will  be  noth- 
ing to  hurt  or  molest.  Those  skies  are  never  ruffled.  No  warring 
or  jarring  sound  is  ever  heard.  Infinite  peace  will  pervade  all 
that  blessed  world,  and  the  rest  of  attained  and  eternal  life  will  be 
experienced  by  all. 

5.  Aro  night  of  zveariness  in  heaven.  We  need  the  natural  night 
here  for  sleep,  rest,  recuperation.  But  it  is  because  we  are  weak 
and  imperfect.  Exercise  tires,  exhausts  us.  But  in  heaven  there 
is  no  night  and  no  need  of  any.  The  amazing  activity  of  that 
world  never  wearies.  Sleep  is  unknown  there.  The  soul  is  tire- 
less, ever  fresh  and  vigorous,  ever  in  service.  No  time  is  lost  in 
sleep,  in  feebleness.  Heaven  is  a  world  of  ceaseless,  wondrous 
activities.  There  is  no  stagnation  of  life,  no  faltering,  no  fainting, 
but  one  ceaseless,  blessed,  angelic  round  of  service. 

6.  No  flight  of  danger  in  heaven.  There  is  always  danger  in  the 
dark.  We  fear  it  and  instinctively  shrink  from  it.  The  night 
season  is  a  time  of  special  perils  and  evils.  The  wicked  choose  it 
to  do  mischief,  to  rob  and  murder,  and  commit  all  sorts  of  crime. 
"  The  eye  of  the  adulterer,"  says  Job,  "  watches  for  the  twilight" 
Virtue  and  innocence,  property  and  life,  are  imperilled  every  time 
the  sun  retires  from  sight.  But  yonder  world  is  free  from  this 
evil.  Once  past  the  gates  of  the  celestial  city,  and  perfect,  eternal 
safety  will  attend  your  steps.  Those  gates  are  never  "  shut,"  for  ' 
there  is  "no  night  there."  There  are  "none  to  molest  or 
make  afraid."  There  are  no  evils  lurking  there  to  surprise,  no 
concealment,    no    temptation,    no    fall    possible.       The   light   of 

"  God  and  the  Lamb"  is  there,  an  infinite,'  everlasting  efful- 
gence. 

7.  No  night  of  sorrow  in  heaven.  How  much  of  this  life  is 
passed  in  darkness,  caused  by  sorrow  in  its  manifold  forms  !  The 
night  of  sickness,  of  affliction,  of  bereavement,  of  disappointment, 
of  trial,  of  spiritual  desolation — what  gloom  and  fear  and  wretched- 
ness does  it  cause  even  the  Christian  !  What  sighs,  what  depres- 
sion, what  longings  for  deliverance,  are  connected  with  our 
sorrows  !  So  long  is  this  night  in  the  experience  of  many  that  it 
seems  as  if  the  morning  would  never  come  ;  so  intense  the  gloom 
that  the  soul,  just  ready  to  give  over,  cries  out  in  anguish,  "  Hath 
God  forgotten  to  be  gracious  ?"     So  much  of  misery  and  darkness 


242  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

and  bitter  experience  mingles  in  this  earthly  state,  that  we  give 
expression  to  the  plaintive  wail  : 

"  It  is  a  weary  way,  and  I  am  faint  ; 

I  pant  for  purer  air,  and  fresher  springs  ; 
Oh  Father  !  take  me  home  ;  there  is  a  taint, 

A  shadow  on  earth's  purest,  brightest  things, 
This  world  is  but  a  wilderness  to  me  ; 
There  is  no  rest,  my  God  !  no  peace  apart  from  Thee." 

Well,  the  night  is  far  spent,  the  day  cometh.  "  No  night  there." 
The  angel  of  sorrow  shall  not  so  much  as  cast  a  shadow  over  that 
bright  world.  It  will  be  a  universal  scene  of  perpetual  brightness 
and  joy. 

8.  No  night  of  suffering  in  heaven.  Sin,  darkness,  conflict,  igno- 
rance, are  only  other  names  for  suffering.  We  are  born  to  this 
inheritance.  There  is  no  escape,  no  exemption.  The  curse,  the 
blighting,  terrible  curse  of  a  sin-hating  God  is  here — rests  on 
everything  which  sin  has  defiled  ;  and  that  curse  pursues  every  man 
to  the  very  confines  of  the  grave.  Oh,  what  is  life  under  this 
righteous  tremendous  infliction,  life  in  its  best  estate  !  As  one 
has  well  said,  "  life  begins  with  a  sigh  and  ends  with  a  groan." 
But  the  morn  will  come,  and  come  with  a  radiance  so  full,  so 
joyous,  so  glorious,  as  to  dispel  forever  and  ever  all  fear  and 
gloom  from  every  mind,  and  mantle  the  skies  with  a  radiance  that 
shall  eclipse  the  noonday  sun  ! 

9.  Finally,  there  is  no  night  of  death  in  heaven.  Death  is  the  most 
dreaded  and  tremendous  event  in  human  experience.  The  fear  of 
it  is  a  lifelong  bondage.  Night  is  the  Scripture  emblem  of  death. 
There  is  a  profound  mysteriousness  about  the  night.  The  day 
closes,  work  ceases,  darkness  covers  the  earth,  a  strange  drowsiness 
steals  over  us,  the  eyes  close,  we  pass  into  an  oblivious  state,  and 
all  is  silent  about  us  !  Is  it  death  ?  It  is  akin  to  it.  But  for  the 
frequency  of  the  event  we  could  not  look  upon  sleep  but  with  a 
shudder.  And  yet  death  is  a  great  deal  more.  But  in  the  case  of 
every  believer  Christ  has  taken  away  the  sting  of  it  and  robbed  the 
grave  of  its  spoil.  There  are  no  death-fears  in  heaven,  no  death- 
pangs,  no  death-chamber  partings  !  There  are  no  graves  in 
heaven,  no  funeral  processions,  no  habiliments  of  mourning  ! 
Death  has  never  gained  entrance  there,  even  though  angels  once 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  243 

rebelled.      Life,  only  life,  perfect,  glorious,  immortal  life,  is  there. 
No  sickness,  no  tears,  no  dying.      Oh,  blessed  world  ! 

Application.  This  subject  is  full  of  consolation  to  these  be- 
reaved friends.  *  You  have  far  less  occasion  to  mourn  to-day  than 
to  rejoice.  She  was  a  child  of  the  day.  By  faith  she  discerned 
the  blessed  world  where  there  is  no  night,  and  with  hope  and 
patience  waited  for  the  morning.  It  has  now  come.  Hers  was  a 
long  night  :  fourscore  and  six  years  few  attain  to.  And  what  a 
breadth  and  experience  of  life  was  hers  !  But  the  "  Star  of  Beth- 
lehem'^ rose  early  on  her  path.  There  were  times  when  the  night 
was  very  dark  about  her,  and  when  her  soul  travailed  in  fear  and 
sorrow,  and  she  longed  for  the  dawn.  But  the  damps  and  fogs 
and  darkness  tended  to  nurse  her  faith  and  cause  her  virtues  to 
bloom  the  sweeter  and  purer.  Yes,  the  morning  has  come  to 
her.  It  dawned  with  unearthly  splendor  in  that  serenity  of  spirit, 
and  fulness  of  faith,  "and  triumph  of  hope  which  characterized  her 
last  days ;  it  shone  forth  with  celestial  radiance  in  her  soul 
while  you  watched  the  falling  of  the  last  sands  of  her  life  ;  and  as 
she  passed  the  dark  valley  the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  full-orbed 
and  resplendent  with  divine  glory,  broke  upon  her  vision.  She  is 
now  basking  in  the  light  of  that  Sun  which  never  sets  and  before 
which  all  darkness  flees  away.  While  your  eyes  are  bedimmed 
with  tears,  hers  are  gazing  with  unspeakable  wonder  and  delight 
on  the  scenes  of  angelic  life.  Oh,  with  what  thanksgiving  does 
she  recognize  the  fact  that  with  her  the  night  is  past  never  to 
return — the  night  of  ignorance  and  error  and  sin  and  conflict  and 
weariness  and  sorrow  and  suffering  and  death — and  the  day  is 
ushered  in — the  day  of  deliverance  from  sin,  the  day  of  the  com- 
plete triumph  of  grace,  the  day  of  glorious  realization,  of  hope 
and  blessedness  and  life  in  the  kingdom  of  God  ! 

*  Preached  at  the  funeral  of  an  aged  saint  ripe  for  heaven. 


244  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 


GLAD    HOME-GOING. 


BY    REV.     JOHN    LOBB,    LONDON. 

Therefore  the  redeemed  of  the  Lord  shall  return,  and  come  with  singing 
unto  Zion  ;  and  everlasting  joy  shall  be  upofi  their  head :  they  shall  obtain 
gladness  and  joy  ;  and  sorrow  and  mourning  shall  flee  away. — Isaiah  li.  II. 

The  sweetness  and  preciousness  of  some  words  only  disclose 
themselves  in  seasons  of  holy  calm,  when  we  are  alone  with  God. 
Others  are  not  understood  until  we  have  suffered  deeply  and  been 
sorely  bereaved.  Others  are  left  for  death  to  interpret  in  the  ful- 
ness of  their  grace  and  glory.  Some  glimpse  of  their  meaning 
may  come  to  us,  as  the  first  faint  streak  of  light  in  the  dawning  of 
the  morning.  The  children  sing  words  of  wonder,  whose  mean- 
ing they  only  dimly  apprehend.  Still  gladness  steals  into  their 
hearts  because  they  have  a  dim  consciousness  of  a  glory  to  be 
revealed.  Like  the  children,  we  of  a  larger  growth  sing  words  of 
sweet  and  heavenly  forecast,  and  the  common  life  is  brightened 
with  a  diviner  radiance,  and  there  stirs  within,  in  stronger  pulsa- 
tions, the  "  earnest  expectation  of  the  creature."  The  words  of 
the  text,  fulfilled  in  the  history  of  the  return  from  captivity,  are 
awaiting  the  richer,  fuller  interpretation  of  death  in  our  case. 
Though  all  the  fulness  of  the  blessing  may  not  be  disclosed,  our 
meditation  may  help  to  assuage  the  sorrow  of  earthly  trial  and  to 
brighten  Christian  hopes. 

I.   Those  destined  to  this  glorious  home-going. 

The  expression,  "  the  redeemed  of  the  Lord,"  is  one  which 
grows  out  of  the  Levitical  law.  The  precise  signification  of  the 
word  redeemed  is  that  of  substitution.  A  man  redeemed  his  first- 
born by  substituting  an  animal  for  him.  This  law  of  substitution, 
and  painful  substitution,  runs  through  all  human  history.  Mothers 
are  immolated  on  the  altar  of  love  that  their  children  may  sing 
glad  songs  of  exulting  joy.  We  must  live  for  others  and  die  for 
others.  God  has  placed  Himself  under  the  same  law.  "  He  hath 
borne  our  griefs  and  carried  our  sorrows. ' '  The  Redeemer  is  a 
ransom  for  all  who  believe  in  His  name.  The  old  Church  was 
redeemed  through  Him.  Nations  unborn  are  included  in  His 
gracious  purpose.     The  children  share   in    the  benefits   of   His 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  245 

grace.  Our  loved  ones  who  have  tasted  death  swell  the  blood- 
washed  throng.  Christ  is  drawing  all  men  to  Him,  and  one  day 
all  will  be  His. 

II.  Their  destination. 

"  They  shall  return  and  come  to  Zion. "  Two  ideas  are  here 
suggested. 

1.  The  redeemed  on  high  are  brought  itito  nearer  fellowship  with 
God.  There  will  be  a  vast  increase  of  spiritual  capacity.  The 
acquaintance  with  God's  purposes,  the  sense  of  His  love,  will  be 
greater  and  more  intense  than  any  known  on  earth. 

2.  The  coming  to  Zion  is  expressive  of  personal  association  and  fel- 
lowship. Every  spirit  forms  one  of  a  glorious  company.  Heaven 
is  a  social  state.  Lost  loves  are  found,  broken  relations  are  united. 
As  the  years  pass  on,  how  rich  heaven  becomes  ! 

III.  The  new  conditions  and  circumstances  of  the  redeemed. 
The  text  labors  to  express  the  fulness  of  delight.     The  word 

everlasting  has  in  it  the  idea  of  ages  past  as  well  as  ages  to  come. 
Heavenly  joy  is  one  the  sources  of  which  were  prepared  in  past 
ages  of  unfolding  grace.  There  is  no  sorrow  here  which  shall  not 
there  be  found  to  be  the  beginning  of  a  new  blessedness.  Tears 
shall  be  wiped  away — the  tears  of  impotent,  baffled  nature  ;  the 
tears  of  regret ;  the  tears  of  remembered  sin  ;  the  tears  of  bereave- 
ment. There  is,  then,  no  loss  in  death.  The  future  of  the 
redeemed  is  assured  by  the  Redeemer.  Life  is  theirs  ;  death  is 
theirs  ;  heaven  is  theirs. 


THE   DEATH    OF   A    MOTHER. 

BY    REV.     JOHN    M.    JOHNSON,    HANOVER,    N.    J. 

/  behaved  myself  as  though  he  had  been  my  friend  or  brother  :  I  bowed 
down  heavily,  as  one  that  moumeth  for  his  mother.- — Psalm  xxxv.  14. 

No  thoughtful  man  can  look  on  the  face  of  his  mother  cold  in 
death,  without  such  emotions  and  reflections  being  awakened  as 
nothing  else  ever  has  produced  or  will  produce.  It  is  an  experi- 
ence that  comes  but  once  in  life. 

1.  A  mother's  death  reminds  us  of  the  blessings  conferred  by  God 
through  the  maternal  relation. 


a^ 


246  PJJLPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

The  mother's  love  is  different  from  the  father's,  in  being  more 
particular  and  minute.  It  springs  from  her  own  nature,  not  from 
any  excellence  in  the  child,  and  survives  ingratitude,  sin,  and 
shame  in  the  latter's  life.  Her  influence  is  the  first  felt,  her  care 
the  first  bestowed  on  us.  The  maternal  relation  has  been  pecul- 
iarly honored  by  God.  It  was  made  the  means  of  uniting  the 
divine  and  the  human  nature,  and  Christ  at  all  times  honored  and 
obeyed  His  mother. 

2.  The  death  of  a  mother  occasions  bitter  recollections  of  filial  dis- 
obedience and  neglect. 

God  has  set  our  duty  to  parents  next  to  that  which  we  owe 
Him.  Parents  stand  in  the  place  of  God  to  the  infant  child,  but  the 
mother  first  exercises  this  authority.  Happy  is  he  who  has  no  cause 
for  repentance  over  his  neglect  or  disobedience  to  maternal  love. 

3.  //  breaks  up  the  home  of  our  early  days,  and  makes  us  feel 
we  are  only  sojourners  here. 

Who  can  name  all  the  tender  associations  that  cluster  about  our 
early  home  ?  Amid  them  all  the  mother  is  the  centre  of  influence 
and  happiness.  Ever  after,  the  recollection  is  a  hallowed  one, 
kindling  virtue  and  restraining  vice.  The  mother's  death  seems 
to  remove  all  this,  but  it  is  henceforth  a  cord  to  bind  us  to  heaven. 

4.  The  death  of  a  mother,  especially  of  an  aged  mother,  makes  us 
sensible  of  our  nearness  to  another  world. 

It  seems  to  place  us  a  generation  nearer  the  grave.  It  brings  us 
in  the  foremost  rank  of  the  travellers  to  eternity. 

Upon  these  relations  I  would  present  a  few  practical  sug- 
gestions. 

1.  I  appeal  to  fathers.  Teach  your  children  that  a  mother's 
love  is  the  most  sacred  thing  in  life.  Teach  them  to  honor  her 
authority  fully  as  much  as  your  own.  When  they  come  to  despise 
that,  they  are  far  on  the  way  to  despising  God's. 

2.  /  appeal  to  mothers.  Your  responsibility  is  a  most  momen- 
tous one.  You  cannot  carry  it  without  God's  help.  You  cannot 
delegate  it  to  any  other  person. 

3.  I  appeal  to  those  whose  mother  is  living.  You  cannot  be  too 
solicitous  to  fulfil  your  duties  to  her.  Boys  are  apt  to  think  that 
to  despise  the  mother's  advice  and  appeals  is  a  sign  of  manhood. 
That  is  a  folly,  cruel  and  guilty.  The  truest  men  are  those  who 
honor  their  mothers  as  Jesus  honored  His. 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  247 

4.  I  appeal  to  those  whose  mother  is  dead.  Cherish  her  precepts 
and  honor  her  religion.  Let  her  grave  be  a  sanctuary  where  you 
shall  draw  near  to  God.     So  live  that  you  shall  meet  her  in  heaven. 


PREPARATIONS    FOR    MEETING   GOD. 

BY    RICHARD    S.    STORRS,    D.  D. ,    BRAINTREE,    MASS. 
Prepare  to  meet  thy  God. — Amos  iv.  12. 

"  God  is  not  far  from  every  one  of  us."  "  If  we  ascend  into 
heaven,  He  is  there  ;  if  we  make  our  bed  in  hell,  behold  He  is 
there."  But  with  those  who  love  and  obey  Him,  He  is  present 
as  a  loving  Father  ;  while  He  meets  as  an  adversary  those  who 
reject  His  authority  ;  and  to  such  a  meeting  Israel  is  summoned 
in  the  words  of  the  text,  and  God  recalls  the  sufferings  He  has  in- 
flicted upon  them  to  impress  them  that  He  is  a  God  of  justice  as 
well  as  of  mercy.  To  such  a  meeting  is  every  unrepentant  sinner 
summoned. 

I.   God's  judicial  character. 

1.  His  righteousness.  Every  law  of  God  is  righteous,  both  in 
principle  and  in  penalty.  No  one  will  be  punished  beyond  his 
demerits. 

2.  His  benevolence.  He  is  the  source  of  all  benevolence.  Strict 
righteousness,  acting  alone,  would  consign  men  to  despair  at 
once  ;  but  blended  with  benevolence  it  distributes  numberless 
blessings  to  our  undeserving  race.  The  punishment  hereafter  of 
sinners  is  no  more  inconsistent  with  God's  benevolence  than  are 
their  sufferings  in  the  present.  Divine  goodness  will  bestow  on 
us  all  the  blessings  we  can  receive  without  injustice  being  done  to 
Himself  and  other  holy  intelligences. 

3.  His  knowledge.  "  His  eyes  are  on  all  the  ways  of  men,  and 
He  seeth  all  their  goings."  Nothing  can  escape  Him,  no  one  can 
deceive  Him. 

4.  His  power.  Behold  Him  measuring  oceans  in  the  hollow  of 
His  hand,  meting  out  the  heavens  with  a  span,  comprehending 
the  dust  of  the  earth  in  a  measure,  weighing  the  mountains  in 
scales,  and  the  hills  in  a  balance,  and  doing  according  to  His  will 
in  the  army  of  heaven  and  among  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  ! 


248  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

Remember  He  once  swept  the  earth  of  every  living  thing,  over- 
threw the  cities  of  the  plain,  caused  Babylon  to  drink  the  cup  of 
His  fury,  overturned  Jerusalem  in  anger.  Before  such  a  judge 
who  shall  stand  ? 

II.   Preparations  for  meeting  god  in  peace 

Some  say  no  other  preparation  is  necessary  than  sorrow  for  our 
sins.  But  Judas  was  afflicted  with  deepest  remorse,  yet  "  it  had 
been  better  for  him  never  to  have  been  born.  "  Who  ever  dreamed 
that  law  regards  as  atonement  the  criminal's  sorrow  ?  If  tears  will 
avail  nothing,  can  sacrifice?  God  has  said,  "  I  will  have  mercy 
and  not  sacrifice.  "     Two  principles  are  here  disclosed  : 

1.  The  sinner  has  nothing  of  his  own  to  offer  God. 

2.  If  he  had  atty  thing,  God  would  not  need  it. 

Preparation  can  be  made  to  meet  God  in  peace  only  by  accept- 
ing of  Christ  as  our  Savoiur.  This  act  of  acceptance  is  called 
faith.  It  is  one  thing  to  believe  with  the  understanding,  another 
thing  to  believe  with  the  heart.  Faith  in  Christ  involves  thorough 
regeneration,  and  constitutes  a  new  and  powerful  principle  of 
action. 


HUMAN   LIFE   TRANSITORY. 

BY    EDWARD    N.    KIRK,     D.D. ,    BOSTON. 

What  is  your  life?  It  is  even  a  vapor,  that  appeareth  for  a  little  time,  and 
then  vanisheth  away. — James  iv.  14. 

I.  HOW  MEN  MAKE  THE  MISTAKE  OF  REGARDING  THIS  LIFE  AS 
SOMETHING  SOLID  AND  STABLE. 

1.  Men  count  on  the  certain  continuance  of  their  strength.  Men's 
plans  and  hopes  are  generally  built  on  the  foundation  of  enduring 
health.  All  the  pleasures  of  sense  require  health  and  vigor.  Just 
so  far,  then,  as  life  and  happiness  are  made  dependent  on  them, 
we  count  on  continued  strength.  For  such  persons  the  thought  of 
death  is  horrible,  and  they  strive  to  banish  it.  The  young  can 
hardly  realize  that  they  are  to  become  aged  and  infirm.  Why  do 
we  dread  advancing  age  ?  Because  it  shows  the  falseness  of  the 
life  embracing  only  the  pleasures  that  depend  on  health. 

2.  Men  count  upon  an  indefinite  prolongation  of  life.  Suppose  that 
health  is  to  continue  as  long  as  life,  yet  life  itself  is  altogether 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  249 

insecure.  The  eager  pursuit  of  wealth,  and  power,  and  pleasure, 
appears  vain  and  foolish  when  we  consider  that  even  if  possession 
of  the  object  desired  be  attained,  how  long  such  possession  will 
continue  is  uncertain. 

3.  Men  count  on  the  next  life  as  resembling  this.  Men  fancy 
heaven  as  they  wish  it  to  be.  The  Indian's  heaven  is  one  of  gross 
delights,  but  there  are  many  in  Christian  lands  whose  views  are 
not  much  more  exalted. 

II.  The  universal  uncertainty  of  life. 

It  is  like  the  vapor,  which  a  breeze  or  sunbeam  may  the  next 
moment  destroy.  Look  at  it  in  reference  to  God.  Before  His 
eternal  existence  it  is  but  a  moment.  Look  at  it  in  reference  to 
nature.  We  call  the  hills  everlasting,  but  even  they  shall  vanish 
away.  Look  at  it  in  reference  to  experience.  Every  day  new 
illustrations  crowd  upon  our  attention.  Our  cemeteries  vie  with 
our  cities.  And  this  uncertainty  is  universal.  No  one,  no  matter 
what  his  plans  or  how  important  his  life,  can  escape  it. 

III.  HOW  SHALL  WE  RECTIFY  SUCH  ERRORS  IN  OUR  OWN  MIND  ? 

1.  We  must  understand  the  reality  of  the  case.  "  Teach  me  so  to 
number  my  days  that  I  may  apply  my  heart  unto  wisdom."  We 
must  understand  what  life  is  given  us  for,  and  recognize  fully  that 
we  must  suffer  pains  and  sorrows,  and  that  earthly  blessings  are 
but  transitory.     Let  us  remember  life  is  a  scene  of  discipline. 

2.  We  should  become  reconciled  to  it.  If  we  come  to  look  at  life 
in  the  light  of  revelation  and  eternity,  it  is  not  thereby  degraded, 
but  rendered  a  thing  of  the  utmost  importance.  It  is  exalted 
above  all  other  views  of  life,  and,  rightly  used,  becomes  the  means 
of  the  highest  good  and  fullest  happiness  to  us. 

3.  We  must  accommodate  our  feelings  and  plans  to  this  view. 
Make  nothing  that  can  perish  the  foundation  of  your  hope.  Lay 
up  treasures  in  heaven.  Let  the  heart  find  its  chief  joy,  not  in 
the  vain  pleasures  and  ambitions  of  earth,  but  in  purity  and  self- 
sacrificing  love. 


250  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

STRENGTH   AND   BEAUTY   IN   CHARACTER. 

BY    REV.    W.     R.    DAVIS,     ALBANY,     N.     Y. 
Upon  the  top  of  the  pillars  was  lily-work. — I  Kings  vii.  22. 
Him  that  overcometh  will  I  make  a  pillar  in  the  temple  of  my  God. — Rev- 
elation iii.  12. 

Observe  that  the  strength  was  first  and  the  beauty  of  lilies  after- 
ward. We  have  here  those  two  qualities  which  are  worshipped  by 
the  soul  of  man  the  world  over.  Power  and  beauty  alike  win  his 
homage,  but  not  unfrequently  he  yields  himself  to  the  sham  of 
strength  and  the  semblance  of  beauty — to  power  ungifted  with 
love,  to  beauty  unadorned  by  holiness.  It  is  the  lie  of  the  world 
that  the  righteous  must  needs  be  the  weak,  and  the  pure  the  un- 
comely. God  declares  the  right  to  be  the  only  strong,  and  the 
good  to  be  the  only  beautiful. 

I  cannot  speak  of  the  sudden  darkness  and  inner  pain  that 
smote  my  heart  when  a  messenger  entered  my  room  with  the 
tidings,  "  Dr.  Gregory  is  dead."  I  felt  that  a  pillar  in  our  temple 
had  fallen,  that  a  life  on  which  leaned  hundreds  of  lives  was  shat- 
tered. Yet  looking  forward  beyond  the  finite  I  see  a  shining, 
stately  shaft  set  up  on  high,  and  read,  "Him  that  overcometh 
will  I  make  a  pillar  in  the  temple  of  my  God." 

I.   The  strength  of  his  character. 

1.  He  was  a  man  of  convictions.  When  he  came  to  apprehend 
the  realities  of  life  illuminated  by  the  realities  of  divine  truth,  it 
was  in  no  negative  mood,  but  with  a  vivid  experience  that  made 
them  his  own.  Faith  was  the  substance  standing  under  his  per- 
sonality. 

2.  His  fidelity.  He  was  not  a  rover  or  a  shifter,  playing  fast  and 
loose  with  duty,  but  an  earnest  man,  who,  having  found  truth, 
planted  himself  on  it  with  a  firmness  invincible. 

3.  He  was  sincere.  He  could  no  more  bear  a  sham  than  be  a 
sham  himself.      He  had  no  hiding-place  even  for  his  faults. 

4.  He  was  self-sacrificing. 

5.  He  sympathized  with  human  life  in  every  stage  and  experience. 
The  sorrows  and  struggles  of  others  became  his  own.  His  con- 
solations were  swift  to  offer  all  his  resources.  Wherever  his  name 
was  mentioned  you  seemed  to  hear  the  beat  of  a  big  heart.     As 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  251 

one  upon  a  steamer's  deck  feels  the  throb  of  the  engine  and  knows 
that  he  is  near  a  force  that  helps  him  over  the  waves,  so  his  friends 
were  propelled  by  his  power  against  adverse  currents  and  over  the 
crests  of  difficulties. 

II.   The  beauty  of  his  character. 

1.  His  cheerfulness.  This  shone  in  his  countenance,  rang  in 
his  voice,  was  the  elasticity  of  every  movement.  He  believed 
mirth  to  be  a  real  part  of  our  moral  nature,  and  he  was  one  of  its 
genial  ministers. 

2.  His  appreciation  of  everything  natural.  No  matter  how 
homely  or  insignificant,  if  it  grew  out  of  a  legitimate  germ  he 
would  give  it  due  value.  This  directed  his  estimates,  decided  his 
tastes,  and  determined  his  criticism  of  art  and  character.  It  was 
not  a  weakness  any  more  than  it  is  a  source  of  weakness  to  the 
oak  to  bear  the  foliage  that  elaborates  strong  roots  and  giant 
arms. 


EMOTIONS   OF  A   SAINT   IN   HEAVEN. 

BY    REV.    A.     S.    GARDNER,    NEW    YORK. 
In  thy  presence  is  fulness  of  joy. — Psalm  xvi.  n. 

Heaven  is  the  Christian's  goal.  He  feels  more  and  more  sensi- 
bly, as  he  advances  toward  it,  that  nowhere  else  is  happiness  in 
fulness  to  be  found.  And  when  he  reaches  it  and  enters  upon 
his  inheritance,  then,  and  not  till  then,  can  he  understand  the  full 
import  of  the  words,  "  In  thy  presence  is  fulness  of  joy." 

1.   He  has  been  made  the  subject  of  a  change  that  affects  everything' 
connected  with  him  save  his  identity. 

The  scene  of  his  dissolution  may  be  supposed  to  be  vividly 
present.  The  bed  of  pain,  the  long  hours  of  wasting  sickness,  the 
sorrowing  friends  that  gathered  around,  will  doubtless  appear  be- 
fore him  in  sharp  contrast  with  the  rest  and  peace  into  which  he 
has  entered.  He  may  have  struggled  with  doubts  and  fears,  but 
now  all  tremblings  are  at  an  end. 

The  body,  with  all  its  fevers  and  pains  and  fatigues,  has  been 
left  behind.  But  it  is  left  only  that  at  the  resurrection,  purified, 
glorified,  spiritualized,  it  may  rise  again  to  be  the  home  of  the 
spirit  forever. 


252  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

2.  The  unencumbered  action  of  the  spirit. 

Circumscribed  while  upon  earth  by  its  habitation  of  clay, 
checked  by  the  imperfections  and  depravities  of  the  natural  man, 
now  its  powers  are  brought  into  most  vigorous  action,  and  every- 
thing is  exactly  adapted  to  it's  nature.  And  one  of  the  results  will 
be  the  instant  recognition  of  the  redeemed.  Parent  will  recognize 
child,  and  friend  friend. 

3.  The  friendships  of  heaven  will  be  of  a  higher  order  than  those  of 
earth. 

Doubts,  suspicions,  treacheries,  will  no  longer  endanger  our 
friendships.  Each  may  pour  into  the  bosom  of  every  other  the 
most  secret  thoughts,  and  all  will  be  worthy  the  same  unbounded 
confidence.  There  will  be  no  reserve,  or  pride,  or  selfishness. 
And,  above  all,  the  love  of  God  will  be  realized  in  all  its  fulness, 
and  His  dealings  with  us  upon  earth,  that  sometimes  caused  belief 
to  stagger,  will  now  be  seen  in  their  true  light. 

4.  He  will  stand  in  the  presence  of  Christ. 

The  memories  of  all  that  Christ  has  suffered  for  him  will  mingle 
with  exaltation  at  His  unutterable  glory.  On  earth  he  has  fol- 
lowed Him  through  all  the  scenes  of  His  earthly  life,  but  at  the 
ascension  sight  has  become  dim,  and  the  longing  to  pierce  the 
cloud  which  received  Him  out  of  sight  is  now  for  the  first  time 
gratified. 

Such  is  a  faint  view  of  the  joys  of  the  redeemed.  By  it  two 
reflections  are  inspired  : 

1.  That  excessive  grief  over  the  departed  is  unwarranted. 

2.  That  we  should  make  sure  of  our  inheritance  with  the  saints  in 
light. 


THE   BLESSED   DEAD. 

BY   REV.    WILLIAM    LLOYD,    NEW   YORK. 

Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord  from  henceforth  :  yea,  saith  the 
Spirit,  that  they  may  rest  from  their  labors  ;  and  their  works  do  follow  them. 
— Revelation  xiv.  13. 

To  read  the  Book  of  Revelation  is  like  walking  over  a  volcano, 
where  here  and  there,  on  the  very  edge  of  the  crater,  surrounded 
by  waste  and  fire,  we  find  a  beautiful  flower.     Amid  the  awful 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  253 

threatenings  of  the  Revelation  we  find,  strangely  mingled  in  the 
Apostle's  vision,  the  most  beautiful  flowers  of  promise.  Amid  the 
pictures  of  the  divine  wrath  are  glimpses  through  which  we  see  the 
grand  procession  of  the  redeemed  as,  crowned,  they  stand  before 
the  throne  of  God.  "  Blessed  are  the  dead  that  die  in  the  Lord." 
What  words  could  bring  such  sweet  promise  as  these  ?  They  are 
like  the  sweetest  wine,  the  Lachryma  Christi,  the  grapes  for  which 
grow  in  the  most  desolate  and  sterile  spots.  They  are  as  a  star 
which  breaks  through  the  tempest  at  midnight  to  light  the  seaman 
home  ;  as  a  chord  of  sweet  music  heard  through  dissonance. 
"  Blessed  are  the  dead  that  die  in  the  Lord. "  These  are  words  of 
divinest  promise  or  mere  mockery.  Standing  by  the  open  grave, 
crushed  with  grief,  the  heart  finds  no  comfort  in  them.  It  cannot 
understand  how  death  can  be  blessed.  There  is  no  rainbow  over 
the  grave.  Look  at  what  was  once  a  man,  full  of  power.  He 
was  our  tower  of  strength,  and  now  he  lies  there  more  helpless 
than  an  infant.  The  mighty  man  that  throbbed  with  life,  and  the 
eye  that  looked  into  ours  and  flashed  with  wisdom,  are  dull  and 
dead.     Can  you  find  much  comfort  in  death  then  ? 

Amid  the  wreck  of  human  hopes  these  words  come  down  to  us 
like  a  benediction.  Why  are  the  dead  blessed  who  die  in  the 
Lord  ?  Because  they  live.  Death  is  not  descent ;  it  is  ascent. 
Death  is  not  extinction  ;  it  is  elevation  to  the  highest  life.  Blessed 
are  the  dead,  because  they  live.  They  are  the  living.  It  is  not 
we  that  live.  It  is  we  who  are  dying  ;  they  are  living.  Blessed 
they  are  because  they  rest  from  anxiety  and  disappointment.  And 
so  these  words  have  been  woven  into  the  burial  service.  We  gaze 
after  our  loved  ones  who  are  taken  from  us  as  we  watch  a  ship 
which  sails  away  with  our  friends.  We  strain  our  eyes  until  the 
last  flicker  of  the  sail  can  be  seen  no  more,  and  we  know  that  until 
we  take  the  same  voyage  we  shall  know  nothing  more  of  them. 

But  their  work  shall  live  after  them.  This  life  has  in  it  immor- 
tality. There  is  an  immortality  in  what  we  do  here.  True  work 
has  not  mere  personal  aggrandizement  for  its  end  and  aim.  It  is 
the  helping  of  others — the  being  to  the  blind  eyes  and  to  the  lame 
feet,  the  helping  of  the  helpless.  That  is  the  definition  of  the 
work  which  lives  after  a  man  dies.  The  life  of  a  true  Christian 
will  be  spent  in  helping  others,  and  this  is  the  work  that  will  bear 
fruit  and  live  after  him. 


254  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 


THE   HIDINGS   OF   GOD'S   PROVIDENCE. 

BY    M.     W.     HAMMA,     D.D.,     BALTIMORE. 

What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now  ;  but  thou  shall  know  hereafter. — John 
xiii.  7. 

These  words  Christ  spoke  to  Peter  when  Peter  could  not  com- 
prehend the  meaning  of  His  actions. 

Most  of  the  facts  of  Providence  have  their  meanings  veiled.  We 
live  in  a  world  of  mystery.  The  physical  world  has  revealed  very 
few  of  its  secrets.  This  is  equally  true  of  the  events  of  our  lives. 
They  come  to  us  shrouded.  Yet  we  may  ever  discover  traces  of 
intelligence,  traces  of  wisdom.  We  see  evidences  of  a  plan.  Let 
us  pursue  this  thought  : 

1.  Every  man  s  life  is  pari  of  the  great  plan  of  God —  a  plan 
that  has  many  alternatives.  All  extremes  of  life  are  within  the 
boundaries  of  this  plan.  The  man  who  rises  to  the  greatest  height 
shows  forth  God's  glory  ;  he  who  sinks  to  the  greatest  depth  serves 
as  a  warning. 

2.  This  plan  of  God  is  so  great  that  you  cannot  judge  of  it  by 
one  event,  or  even  by  one  life.  You  go  into  the  workshop  of 
the  artist  who  is  framing  a  great  structure.  You  see  here  a 
stone  of  a  peculiar  color  ;  there  a  stone  of  another  color  ;  here 
one  of  this,  and  there  one  of  that  angle.  You  would  not  say  to 
the  artist,  You  had  better  take  this  stone  or  that  stone  next :  you 
would  submit  to  his  superior  wisdom.  He  sees  the  whole  of  the 
structure  as  it  stands  complete  before  his  mind.  What  do  you 
know  of  the  whole  plan  ?  These  few  stones  that  you  see  can  give 
you  but  the  most  imperfect  conception  of  the  cathedral  in  which 
they  are  to  be  placed.  In  God's  providence  I  submit  to  the  supe- 
rior wisdom  of  the  Great  Architect.  He  takes  from  the  earth  one 
man  and  leaves  another.  We  are  amazed  ;  we  cannot  understand 
it ;  we  know  not  the  plan  that  lies  in  God's  mind. 

a.  Sometimes  God  reveals  in  this  life  the  reasons  for  His  provi- 
dences. This  we  see  in  Job.  Jacob  lived  to  see  the  reason  for 
the  strange  providence  that  permitted  Joseph  to  be  taken  from 
him.  Years  he  walked  in  the  shadow  of  that  great  sorrow  before 
light  came. 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  255 


b.  There  are  other  sorrows,  the  explanation  for  which  comes  not 
in  this  life.  This  was  true  of  the  death  of  Rachel— Naomi  flee- 
ing from  famine,  losing  her  husband,  and  her  daughters  losing 
theirs.     The  triple  sorrow  was  probably  not  revealed  in  life. 


HOW  CHRIST  TAKES  AWAY  FEAR  OF  DEATH. 

BY    REV.     R.     S.     STORRS    DICKINSON,     SCOTLAND. 

And  deliver  them  who  through  fear  of  death  were  all  their  lifetime  subject 
to  bondage.— Hebrews  ii.  15. 

To  remove  the  fear  of  death  is  here  given  as  one  of  the  reasons 
why  Christ  descended  from  glory,  to  suffer  and  die  in  shame.  He 
removes  this  fear  simply  by  making  application  to  the  individual, 
through  the  Spirit's  agency,  of  the  truths  about  death  which  He 
came  to  reveal. 

1.  Christ  leaches  that  death  is  not  the  end  of  our  being. 

Nature  has  hints  that  point  to  immortality,  but  they  are  only 
hints.  The  longings  of  man's  nature  afford  a  presumption  that 
the  soul  shall  live  forever,  but  nothing  more  than  presumption. 
Philosophy,  learning,  science,  all  the  resources  of  the  human  mind 
before  the  coming  of  Christ,  failed  to  establish  anything  like  cer- 
tainty concerning  immortality.  And  yet  this  is  a  subject  concern- 
ing which  a  single  doubt  is  agony.  The  bare  possibility  that  the 
grave  ends  existence  forever  is  a  source  of  horror,  and  only  the 
most  emphatic  proof  to  the  contrary  will  satisfy  the  heart.  Such 
proof  Christ  furnishes  in  His  life,  His  teachings,  and  His  resur- 
rection. 

2.  Christ  teaches  that  the  soul  does  not  wait  in  the  grave  for  the 
resurrection  of  the  body. 

We  are  so  accustomed  to  the  association  of  the  spirit  and  the 
body  that  we  think  of  the  person  as  lying  in  the  grave.  But  the 
Bible  tells  us,  "  Then  shall  the  dust  return  to  the  earth  as  it  was, 
and  the  spirit  shall  return  unto  God,  who  gave  it. ' '  (Eccl.  xii.  7. ) 
See  also  Luke  xxiii.  43.  He  teaches  us  to  fasten  the  mind,  not 
upon  the  coffin,  but  upon  heaven  and  the  joy  of  the  departed. 
At  the  same  time  we  are  not  taught  to  despise  the  lifeless  body. 
It  is  to  rise  at  the  resurrection  and  be  transformed.     But  lest  our 


256  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

interest  in  it  become  too  absorbing,  he  often  places  obstacles  in  the 
way  of  its  exercise.  The  sepulchre  of  Moses  was  revealed  to  no 
man.  And  how  many  mourn  for  those  in  unknown  and  in  watery 
graves  ? 

3.  Christ  teaches  how  we  may  meet  our  Maker  without  fear  in  the 
judgment  day. 

This  fear  is  really  the  main  cause  of  the  dread  of  death.  No 
one  needs  to  be  told  that  he  is  sinful  in  the  sight  of  God.  Con- 
science condemns  us  in  advance,  as  far  as  our  own  merits  are  con- 
cerned. But  Christ  has  borne  our  sins,  and  if  we  accept  Him  for 
a  Saviour  all  is  well.  To  one  who  may  doubt  the  efficacy  of  so 
simple  an  arrangement,  let  me  say,  would  it  not  take  away  all 
your  fear  of  death  to  know  of  a  surety  that  God  is  your  friend  ? 
Consciousness  of  this  is  just  what  Christ  seeks  to  impart. 


CHRIST'S   RESURRECTION  THE   PROMISE  AND 
PROPHECY   OF   OUR   OWN. 

BY   T.     DE    WITT    TALMAGE,    D.D. ,     BROOKLYN. 

But  now  is  Christ  risen  from  the  dead,  and  become  the  first-fruits  of  them 
that  slept. — 1  Corinthians  xv.  20. 

I  find  in  the  text  a  prophecy  of  our  own  resurrection.  Before 
I  finish  I  hope  to  pass  through  every  cemetery  and  drop  a  flower 
of  hope  on  the  tombs  of  all  who  have  died  in  Christ.  Rejoicing 
in  Christ's  resurrection  we  rejoice  in  the  resurrection  of  all  the 
good. 

The  greatest  of  all  conquerors  is  not  Alexander,  or  Caesar,  or 
Napoleon,  but  death.  His  throne  is  in  the  sepulchre.  But  his 
sceptre  shall  be  broken,  for  the  dead  in  Christ  shall  arise. 

There  are  mysteries  around  this  resurrection  of  the  body  which 
I  can't  explain.  Who  can  unravel  the  mysteries  of  nature  ?  Who 
can  explain  how  this  vast  variety  of  flowers  has  come  from  seeds 
which  look  so  nearly  alike  ?  Tell  me  how  God  can  turn  the 
chariot  of  His  omnipotence  on  a  rose  leaf  ?  Mystery  meets  us  at 
every  turn. 

One  objects  :  The  body  may  be  scattered — an  arm  in  Africa,  a 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  257 

leg  in  Europe,  the  rest  of  the  body  here.  How  will  it  be  gathered 
on  the  resurrection  morn  ? 

Another  objects  :  The  body  changes  every  seven  years.  It  is 
perishing  continually.  The  blood-vessels  are  canals  along  which 
the  breadstuff  is  conveyed  to  the  wasted  and  hungry  parts  of  our 
bodies.  Says  another  :  A  man  dies  ;  plants  take  up  parts  of  the 
body  ;  animals  eat  the  plants,  and  other  men  eat  the  animals. 
Now,  to  which  body  will  belong  these  particles  of  matter  ? 

Are  these  all  the  questions  you  can  ask  ?  If  not,  ask  on.  I  do 
not  pretend  to  answer  them.  I  fall  back  on  these  words,  "All 
that  are  in  their  graves  shall  come  forth. 

There  are  some  things,  however,  we  do  know  about  the  resur- 
rected body. 

1.  It  will  be  a  glorious  body.  The  body,  as  we  now  see  it,  is 
but  a  skeleton  to  what  it  would  have  been  were  it  not  marred  by 
sin. 

2.  It  will  be  an  immortal  body. 

3.  A  powerful  body — unconquerable  for  evermore — never  tired. 


CHRIST   AND   THE   IMMORTAL   LIFE. 

BY   W.    J.     TUCKER,    D.  D. ,    NEW   YORK. 

Whither  the  forerunner  is  for  us  entered,  even  Jesus,  made  an  high  priest 
forever  after  the  order  of  J\Ielchisedec. — Hebrews  vi.  20. 

The  doctrine  of  immortality  was  taught  before  Christ  appeared, 
but  in  Him  there  was  an  assurance  given  of  it  such  as  was  never 
before  given.  In  an  eminent  sense,  life  and  immortality  were 
brought  to  light  in  Him.  Before  Him  men  reasoned  ably  on  the 
subject,  but  still  they  were  not  satisfied — they  felt  the  need  of  some 
higher  evidence.  Their  thoughts  were  in  a  chaotic  state — more 
light  was  needed. 

What  is  there  peculiar  in  the  Bible  in  relation  to  this  subject  ? 

1.  The  future,  as  revealed  by  Christ,  is  the  co?itinuance  of  that 
which  is  present.  He  came  from  the  other  world,  and  presented 
the  most  convincing  credentials  of  His  character  and  mission. 
The  evidence  He  gave  was  of  a  personal  nature,  and  was  on  this 
account  of  the  greater  force.     The  believer  is  united  to  Him  bv 


258  PULPIT  AND   GRAVE. 

faith,  and  partakes  of  His  life  as  the  branch  partakes  of  the  life  of 
the  vine.  Christ  passed  into  the  heavens  and  remains  the  same, 
but  more  highly  glorified.  The  believer  is  conscious  of  partaking 
of  His  life  and  is  assured  of  the  pledge  that  he  will  live  as  Christ, 
his  forerunner,  lives,  but  in  a  more  glorious  state  and  sphere. 

2.  That  other  life  cannot  be  any  less  than  this.  We  have  the 
assurance  in  Christ  that  it  will  be  much  more. 

3.  We  have  the  assurance  of  a  complete  life  in  Christ.  We  feel 
that  our  powers  are  not  fully  developed  here,  and  the  most  mature 
Christian  does  not  represent  the  finished  work  of  Christ.  He 
knows  only  in  part — he  is  only  a  babe.  He  who  is  the  Master 
and  Source  of  life  will  earn-  it  on  in  a  state  higher  than  this. 
That  is  complete  which  answers  the  end  for  which  it  was  originally 
designed  and  adapted.  Christ  has  led  the  way  into  the  most 
sacred  things,  and  He  will  bring  the  redeemed  soul  into  the  state 
in  which  alone  there  can  be  an  opportunity  for  its  complete  de- 
velopment. Through  Christ  we  have  an  assurance  of  an  introduc- 
tion into  a  life  that  is  pure,  with  a  corresponding  character.  When 
on  earth  we  sit  by  the  side  of  an  aged  and  devout  saint,  we  often 
feel  out  of  place,  and  almost  as  if  we  had  no  right  to  be  there. 
The  contrast  is  so  great,  that  we  do  not  feel  at  home.  But  what 
shall  it  be  to  enter  into  the  society  of  a  multitude  of  purified  souls 
in  heaven  ?  Through  Christ  the  purified  saints  of  earth  will  enter 
the  society  of  heaven  without  fear,  and  with  a  disposition  and 
character  that  can  make  them  feel  entirely  at  home.  They  will 
be  rightly  introduced.  Their  Forerunner  has  gone  there  and  pre- 
pared a  place  for  them,  as  well  as  them  for  the  place.  He  made 
them  heirs  and  joint-heirs  with  Himself  to  the  glorious  inheri- 
tance. It  is  a  blessed  and  consoling  thought  that,  in  the  midst  of 
sorrow  and  death,  we  have  a  Friend  that  has  gone  before  who  will 
soon  receive  us  to  Himself,  where  we  shall  see  as  we  are  seen, 
and  know  as  we  are  known. 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  259 

THE   DEATH   OF   LAZARUS. 

BY    REV.    HENRY    BLUNT,     ENGLAND. 

Jesus  saith  unto  her,  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life  :  he  that  believeth 
in  Ale,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live. — John  xi.  25. 

i.  The  wailing.  It  was  while  at  Bethany  that  the  Lord  received 
the  brief  but  affecting  message,  "  He  whom  thou  lovest  is  sick." 
Brief  as  it  was,  the  message  conveyed  all  that  was  needed — the 
brother's  sufferings,  the  sisters'  anxiety.  How  did  they  watch  the 
return  of  the  messenger  !  With  what  fluctuations  of  hope  must 
they  have  scanned  the  face  of  the  sufferer  !  But  the  messenger 
returns,  and  alone.  Lazarus  grows  daily  worse,  and  he  whom 
they  had  vainly  thought  the  Saviour  loved,  passes  through  every 
hour  of  human  suffering,  even  to  the  last  and  darkest. 

Thus  we  learn  that  the  depth  or  length  of  any  affliction  is  no 
evidence  that  God  hath  forgotten  to  be  gracious  ;  that  a  prayer 
unanswered  is  by  no  means  a  prayer  unheard. 

2.  The  mourning.  Four  days  of  mourning  pass — hopeless, 
full  of  doubt,  perhaps,  regarding  Christ's  love  or  power.  At 
length,  but  alas  !  too  late,  they  hear  of  the  approach  of  Jesus  and 
His  disciples.  Martha  meets  Him  with  words  expressive  of  the 
thought  that  had  been  uppermost  during  the  mourning — "  Lord,  if 
thou  hadst  been  here  my  brother  had  not  died,"  implying  almost 
a  reproach  for  the  Lord's  delay.  Jesus,  to  prepare  her  for  the 
coming  miracle,  says,  "Thy  brother  shall  rise  again."  Now 
mark  Martha's  strange  faith  :  "I  know  that  he  shall  rise  again  at 
the  last  day."  She  could  believe  that  distant  miracle,  that  all  the 
myriads  of  earth  should  be  raised  ;  but  she  staggered  at  the 
promise  of  a  present  miracle.  How  difficult  it  is  for  us  to  receive 
and  act  on  the  promise  for  to-day  ! 

Mary  meets  Jesus  with  the  very  words  of  Martha.  Probably 
that  sentiment  had  formed  the  burden  of  conversation  between 
Mary  and  Martha  ever  since  the  death  of  their  brother.  And  as 
Mary  fell  weeping  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  perhaps,  humanly  speaking, 
Jesus  almost  regretted  that  He  had  set  their  faith  so  severe  a 
lesson.  ' '  Jesus  wept. ' '  How  full  of  comfort  to  many  sorrowing 
at  the  new-made  grave,  to  remember  that  Jesus  had  once  wept  as 
they  weep ! 


260  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

3.  The  rising.  As  they  roll  away  the  stone,  Martha's  faith 
falters.  Jesus  mildly  rebukes  her,  and  with  a  brief  prayer  He 
speaks  the  word  of  command,  which  awakes  the  sleeper.  It  was 
no  more  effort  for  Christ  to  awaken  the  dead  Lazarus  than  to 
awake  the  sleeping  Peter  in  Gethsemane.  But  can  we  not  dwell 
too  long  upon  this  one  miracle  of  Christ  ?  The  day  is  coming 
when  a  miracle  infinitely  greater  is  to  be  wrought,  when,  the  nar- 
row graves  unable  to  hold  us  down,  the  chains  of  death  unable  to 
restrain  us,  we  must  all  come  forth  at  the  bidding  of  the  mighty 
Judge.  It  is  well  for  us  often  to  realize  this  scene,  as  far  as  we 
may.  I  charge  the  worldly  to  carry  from  here  some  lasting  im- 
pression of  the  solemnity  of  that  scene.  I  charge  the  thoughtless 
to  meditate  upon  its  meaning.  I  charge  those  "  troubled  about 
many  things,"  to  remember  the  one  thing  needful. 


THE   YEARS    FLEETING  AND    HEAVEN   NEARING. 

BY    C.    L.    GOODELL,    D.D.,   ST.    LOUIS,    MO. 
Now  is  our  salvation  nearer  than  when  we  believed. — Romans  xiii.  II. 

The  Christian  is  advancing  toward  heaven.  Every  day  brings 
him  nearer  home.  This  is  the  thought  of  the  apostle.  It  was, 
no  doubt,  a  joyous  thought  to  Paul.     Is  it  to  you  ? 

If  you  are  truly  Christians — those  who  have  believed  in  Christ 
and  accepted  Him  and  strive  to  follow  Him  as  a  Saviour — you  are 
going  home  to  heaven.  Heaven  is  nearer  now  than  it  ever  was 
before.  Life  is  a  journey  ;  the  end  is  nearing.  It  is  a  race  ;  the 
goal  will  soon  be  reached.  It  is  a  voyage  ;  the  port  will  soon  be 
in  sight. 

How  many  of  our  friends  have  reached  there  before  us  !  We 
have  seen  their  departure,  and  are  assured  of  it.  We  are  following 
fast.  It  is  a  startling  thought,  that  our  business  will  soon  be  left 
behind  ;  that  our  work  will  be  done,  and  that  we  shall  leave  this 
stage  of  being — leave  it  forever — our  homes  and  cares,  and  all  the 
interests  that  engage  us  here,  and  never  more  come  back.  It  is 
an  amazing  thought  that  we,  if  we  are  Christians,  shall  soon  be  in 
heaven.  Think  of  it  !  Time  and  all  its  opportunities  passed  for- 
ever !     The  suns  and  moons  and  stars  all  behind  us  ;  springs  and 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  261 

summers  and  autumns  all  gone  ;  the  sights  and  sounds  of  earth 
passed  away  !  Soon — very  soon — shall  we  be  in  heaven.  We 
shall  see  God,  we  shall  behold  Christ  in  His  glory,  we  shall  look 
upon  the  angels.  Mothers  will  be  searching  for  their  children, 
and  husbands  and  wives  shall  find  each  other  ;  and  all  hands, 
parted  in  Christ,  will  be  clasped  again.  It  is  like  coming  into 
port  after  an  ocean  voyage.  The  shining  shore-line,  how  it  grows 
on  the  waiting  eye  !  The  joy  will  be  like  that  with  which  the 
Crusaders  first  saw  Jerusalem. 

But  a  little  while  and  all  these  things  will  be  real  to  us.  Time 
will  be  ended.  Then  unbelievers  will  believe,  and  skeptics  doubt 
no  more.  But  it  will  be  too  late.  Now  is  the  accepted  time. 
They  will  call  for  the  rocks  and  mountains  to  fall  upon  them. 

What  a  change  this  will  be  !  What  an  unveiling  of  the  heart ! 
What  a  disclosure  in  ourselves  and  others  !  All  that  is  hidden 
shall  be  brought  to  light.  Are  we  in  sympathy  with  these  things  ? 
Do  we  love  to  look  forward  to  them,  and  long  for  the  joy  set  be- 
fore us  ? 

The  apostle  says,  in  view  of  this  :  "  Knowing  the  time,  that 
now  it  is  high  time  to  awake  out  of  sleep.  The  night  is  far  spent 
The  day  is  at  hand.  Let  us,  therefore,  cast  off  the  works  of  dark- 
ness and  put  on  the  armor  of  light." 

"  Wake  out  of  sleep,"  says  the  apostle,  as  if  we  do  not  realize 
these  things,  and  are  as  those  on  a  train  coming  in.  How  this 
thought  snould  stimulate  exertion  !  We  should  no  longer  be 
dreaming,  but  doing.  It  should  lead  us  to  redeem  the  time,  to 
make  up  for  the  misspent  past ;  giving  our  best  thoughts  and  care 
to  things  that  are  worthy,  and  not  to  trifles.  What  preparations 
should  we  make  for  the  companionships  and  enjoyments  of 
heaven  !  Put  on  the  wedding  garment  of  salvation.  You  are  to 
see  the  King  in  it. 

It  should  induce  men  to  leave  sin  and  worldliness,  and  live  for 
the  great  life  beyond.  Those  who  have  no  hope,  how  the  nearing 
eternity  should  lead  them  to  accept  salvation  !  This  nearing  sal- 
vation— what  a  comfort  to  those  in  sorrow  and  affliction  !  What 
a  world  beyond  opened  to  Bunyan  in  prison,  and  to  all  the  weary 
and  heavy-laden  !  If  we  could  be  shut  up  to  thoughts  of  this 
nearing  salvation,  how  soon  should  we  be  weaned  from  earth  ! 

The  sun  grows  large  as  it  goes  down,  so  ought  the  Christian's 


262  PULPIT  AND   GRAVE. 

character  to  round  and  brighten.      How  quietly  it  sets,  elsewhere 
to  rise  and  shine  !     So  should  the  Christian's  going  be. 

To  reach  heaven  there  is,  for  the  believer,  no  gulf  to  cross. 
The  path  that  leads  out  of  life  leads  to  the  presence-chamber  of 
our  Lord.     Since  heaven  is  so  near,  death  is  not  loss. 


THE   LIFE   AND   DEATH   OF  A  CHILD. 

BY    REV.     WILLIAM    VEENSCHOTEN,    MINTZESHILL,     N.     Y. 

For  what  purpose  has  this  babe  lived  ? 

i.  For  God's  sake.  The  universe  seems,  to  some  extent,  a 
failure  to  carry  out  God's  purpose  ;  but  not  so  the  children.  One 
third  of  the  human  race  die  in  infancy — a  demonstration  of  God's 
life-giving  and  saving  power. 

2.  This  babe  has  lived  for  its  own  sake.  This  short  life  has 
already  achieved  success,  i.  Consider  Matt,  xviii.  3  ;  xix.  14  ; 
Mark  x.  14  ;  Luke  xviii.  16.  2.  A  human  being  has  begun  to 
live.  3.  Eternity,  with  all  its  glorious  possibilities,  has  been 
entered. 

3.  This  babe  has  lived  for  its  parents' sake.  1.  It  has  occasioned 
anxiety,  care  and  pain  :  these  they  can  easily  forget.  It  has  also 
exercised  their  graces  :  this  will  be  a  lasting  benefit.  2.  The 
parents  had  a  little  one  to  love  ;  a  gift,  around  which  their  affec- 
tions clustered,  and  for  which  God  was  praised.  3.  The  parents 
have  a  little  one  to  mourn — an  earthly  blessing  removed,  the 
transient  nature  of  these  blessings  demonstrated. 

4.  The  parents  shed  bitter  tears,  but  their  hearts  are  softened  by 
affliction.  1.  Reminded  of  their  Covenant  God  ;  His  providence 
displayed  to  them  and  their  child.  2.  Reminded  of  evil  in  the 
world  ;  that  evil  the  cause  of  these  sorrows,  separation  and  death. 
3.  Reminded  of  the  uncertainty  of  life  and  all  earthly  pos- 
sessions. 4.  Warned  not  to  make  anything  an  idol,  nor  any 
created  thing  a  portion. 

5.  The  parents' attention  is  directed  to  the  other  world.  1.  The 
soul.  The  body  in  the  grave,  but  not  the  soul  ;  it  has  gone  to 
God,  who  gave  it.  2.  The  habitation  of  Christ  and  the  blessed, 
our  Father's  house  ;  all  His  children  are  gathering  there. 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  263 

6.  The  parents  are  reminded  that  their  salvation  is  not  infant 
salvation.  Repentance,  faith,  and  a  new  life  are  necessary,  if  they 
would  be  saved  and  join  their  child  again. 

7.  The  babe  in  heaven  speaks  to  the  parents  on  earth — tells 
them  to  prepare.  Sin  alone  can  form  an  impassable  gulf  between 
the  parents  and  the  child.     Become  rid  of  sin. 


PREPARATION  FOR  ETERNITY. 

BY   JUSTIN    EDWARDS,     D.  D. ,    BOSTON. 

But  the  end  of  all  things  is  at  hand :  be  ye  therefore  sober  and  watch  unto 
prayer. — 1  Peter  iv.  7. 

This  warning  naturally  leads  our  minds  to  the  end  of  the  world, 
which,  compared  with  eternity,  may  be  said  to  be  even  now  "  at 
hand."  But  to  you  and  to  me  the  end  is  much  nearer  than  this. 
For  what  is  your  life  ?  A  vapor,  which  appears  and  vanishes 
away.      I  shall,  therefore, 

I.  Illustrate  this  truth. 

A  thing  is  said  to  be  at  hand  when  it  is  so  near  that  we  may 
come  upon  it  at  any  time.  In  this  sense  the  end  of  all  things  is 
at  hand.  There  is  not  a  moment  in  which  we  are  not  exposed, 
without  warning,  to  death.  The  merchant's  plans  may  reach  into 
the  distant'  future,  his  ships  may  be  in  many  seas  ;  but  in  a  mo- 
ment the  end  comes.  The  mother  may  indulge  countless  hopes 
for  her  child,  but  a  fall,  a  fever,  may  in  an  instant  shatter  them. 
No  age,  no  condition,  can  keep  off  death. 

II.  I  shall  point  out  the  duties  to  which  the  warning  calls 
us.      ' '  Be  ye  sober,  and  watch  unto  prayer. ' ' 

1.  Be  ye  sober.  This  applies  to  the  body  and  to  the  mind. 
Let  your  appetites,  passions,  affections,  be  governed  by  the  Bible. 
Keep  your  eye  on  eternity  and  in  its  light  measure  the  importance 
of  the  sorrows  and  joys  of  time.  Even  Christians  are  often  cast 
down  by  frowns  of  the  world  or  elated  by  its  smiles.  Let  them 
remember  for  how  short  a  time  these  endure.  Be  ye  sober,  and 
the  joy  unspeakable  will  be  yours  on  earth,  and  eternal  bliss  in 
heaven. 

Moreover  your  example  will  exert  an  influence  for  good  which 
cannot  be  measured.     The  world  is  full  of  instances  where  the 


264  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

humblest  life  has  been  the  means  of  the  grandest  accomplish- 
ments. Not  the  amount  but  the  kind  of  influence  you  exert  is 
what  tells. 

2.  Watch  unto  prayer.  Prayer  is  the  lever  that  moves  the  world. 
By  it  a  person's  influence  may  reach  around  the  world  and  into 
the  everlasting  future.  The  prayers  of  Paul,  of  David,  of  Abra- 
ham, may  still  be  the  agents  of  unseen  good  to  the  world.  One 
blessing  a  believer's  prayer  may  certainly  secure — his  own  eternal 
life.  

DEATH   IN  THE   MIDST   OF   LIFE. 

BY    JABEZ    BURNS,     D.  D. 

Her  sun  is  gone  down  while  it  was  yet  day.— Jeremiah  xv.  9. 

The  sun  is  well  used  to  represent  the  life  of  a  saint.      Let  us 
note  a  few  points  in  the  resemblance. 
I.   The  sun  in  its  splendor. 

1.  Its  natural  glory.  The  most  glorious  of  the  heavenly  bodies, 
it  well  typifies  moral  excellence  and  spiritual  glory.  (See  2  Cor. 
iii.    18.) 

2.  Its  constancy.  The  centre  of  the  solar  system,  a  million 
times  larger  than  the  earth,  it  stands  forth  as  the  most  sublime  of 
God's  material  works.  How  constantly,  without  interruption  or 
decrease,  it  is  fulfilling  the  purpose  of  its  Creator  !  What  destruc- 
tion would  result  from  irregularity  in  the  exertion  of  its  power  ! 
So  with  the  Christian.      (See.  1  Cor.  iv.  9. ) 

3.  Its  influence.  Of  how  much  beauty  and  comfort  are  its  rays 
the  source  !  Without  them  life  were  impossible,  and  the  earth  a 
sterile,  uninhabitable  mass.  Such  is  every  spot  where  the  Chris- 
tian life  is  unknown.  All  the  blessings  of  civilization  flow  from 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness.      "  Ye  are  the  lights  of  the  world,"  etc. 

II.   The  setting  sun. 

1.  The  certainly  0/ its  setting.      As  certain  is  death. 

2.  The  diversity  in  the  time  of  its  setting.  We  have  the  short  day 
of  winter,  the  long  day  of  summer.  But  still  more  diverse  is  the 
period  of  life.      How  often  does  its  sun  go  down  while  it  is  yet  day  ! 

3.  The  frequent  beauty  of  its  selling.  "  Let  me  die  the  death  of 
the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his." 

4.  The  sun  sets  to  shine  upon  another  horizon. 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  265 


DEATH -BED   REPENTANCE. 

BY   THE    MOST    REV.     JOHN    MACHALE,     D.D.,    ARCHBISHOP    OF    TUAM, 
IRELAND. 

Because  you  have  despised  all  my  counsel,  and  neglected  my  reprehensions, 
I  also  will  laugh  in  your  destruction,  and  shall  mock  you  when  that  shall 
come  to  you  which  you  feared. — Proverbs  i.  25,  26. 

St.  Augustine  remarks  that  of  all  the  wiles  of  the  adversary  for 
vanquishing  our  innocence,  there  is  none  so  frequent  or  so  suc- 
cessful as  that  by  which  he  persuades  us  to  delay  our  conversion. 
The  folly  and  presumption  of  one  who  puts  off  salvation  in  the 
hope  of  a  death-bed  conversion,  are  shown  in  the  following  consid- 
erations : 

1.  He  devotes  his  life  io  the  service  of  sin. 

2.  He  hopes  to  deceive  the  omniscient  God.  The  conversion  he 
relies  upon  is  a  hollow,  hypocritical  one,  since  such  must  be  any 
conversion  which  is  the  result,  not  of  aversion  for  sin,  but  of  the 
impossibility  of  enjoying  it  longer. 

3.  His  passions  gather  strength  zvith  each  gratification. 

4.  He  may  have  no  knowledge  of  approaching  death.  His  death 
may  be  sudden.  Or  friends  may  deceive  him  to  the  very  last  with 
hopes  of  life. 

5.  He  may  become  the  victim  of  despair.  This  is  the  common  fate 
of  the  wicked.  As  his  mind  is  at  last  turned  to  his  real  condition, 
his  sins  rise  like  a  mountain  between  him  and  God. 


THE  CHANGING  AND  THE  CHANGELESS. 

BY-  JABEZ    BURNS,    D.  D. 

The  voice  said,  try,  and  he  said,  What  shall  I  cry  ?  All  flesh  is  grass  and 
all  the  goodliness  thereof  is  as  the  flower  of  the  field,  etc. — Isaiah  xl.  6-8. 

I.   Human  frailty. 

What  is  more  fragile  than  the  grass  or  the  flower  of  the  field  ? 
Even  if  no  blight  from  without  destroy  it,  its  existence  is  soon 
ended.     And  even  this  brief  existence  is  often  hastened  by  the 


266  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

withering  wind  and -the  scorching  sun.  Let  us  observe  a  few 
points  of  resemblance  in  the  corruptible  body  to  the  fragile  flower. 
i.  Its  source  and sustmance.  The  earth  is  the  basis  of  the  body's 
existence,  from  which  its  supplies  are  drawn,  and  to  which  it 
must  at  last  return.      "  Dust  thou  art,"  etc. 

2.  lis  loveliness. 

a.  The  bud  of  infancy. 

b.  The  opening  flower  of  youth. 

c.  The  blossom  of  purity  and  virtue. 

3.  On  what  Us  existence  depends.  Our  lives  are  in  God's  hands. 
He  gave  the  lily  its  beauty,  and  according  to  His  will  it  perishes. 
He  gives  us  strength,  and  it  is  His  hand  that  deprives  us  of  it. 
' '  The  Lord  hath  given,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away. ' ' 

4.  Living  in  remembrance  of  this  frailty. 
II.   The  unchanging  word  of  God. 

1.  The  grand  doctrines  of  God's  word  are  immutable.  Man's 
perceptions  may  vary,  but  truth  is  unchangeable.  It  does  not 
vary  with  different  climes,  or  different  ages,  or  different  worlds. 

2.  God s  promises  are  immutable. 

3.  God ' s  warnings  are  immutable.  They  rest  upon  His  justice 
and  purity,  and  are  as  unchanging  as  these  qualities.  The  warn- 
ings given  to  Lot's  wife  are  adapted  to  every  sinner  fleeing  from 
destruction. 


NOT   HERE,    BUT  RISEN. 

BY    REV.    JOHN    LOBB,     LONDON. 

Why  seek  ye  the  living  among  the  dead?  He  is  not  here,  but  is  risen. — 
Luke  xxiv.  5,  6. 

There  is  suggested  here 

1 .  The  power  of  the  illusions  of  sense  to.  cloud  the  mind  and  darken 
hope.  The  disciples  sought  the  living  among  the  dead,  because 
universal  experience  gave  them  no  clew  whatever  to  any  other 
course  of  action.  The  past  proclaimed  that  death  was  king.  But 
here  was  a  new  fact  which  contradicted  all  experience.  And  in 
that  fact  we  have  the  divine  answer  to  the  materialism  of  all  ages. 

2.  The  marvellous  change  of  which  Christ  had  bee?i  the  subject,  and 
which  His  people  share.     After  long  years  even,  we  go  to  the  grave 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  267 

to  weep  there.  We  look  downward  rather  than  upward,  seeking 
the  living  among  the  dead.  But  it  is  indeed  the  fact  that  it  is 
death  which  is  transitory,  and  life  which  is  abiding.  They  are  the 
living  whom  we  have  lost.  The  gain  of  dying  is  unspeakable  ; 
the  blessedness  is  immediate. 

3.  The  redemption  and  reinstatement  of  the  body.  There  was  an 
empty  tomb.  A  dead  body  saw  no  corruption.  It  was  reani- 
mated. And  the  doctrine  of  Holy  Scripture  is,  as  we  shall  be 
planted  in  the  likeness  of  Christ's  death,  so  we  shall  start  up  in 
humanity's  new  springtime,  in  the  likeness  of  His  resurrection. 
"  He  shall  change  our  humiliated  bodies  that  they  may  be  fash- 
ioned like  unto  His  glorious  body. "  Why  then  seek  ye  the  living 
among  the  dead  ?  Why  go  to  the  grave  to  weep  there  ?  We 
might  weep  if  destruction  were  lord,  and  corruption  the  only  end. 
But  we  know  that  death  is  but  birth  into  a  higher  life. 


SUDDEN   DEATH  :  IS   IT  TO   BE   DEPRECATED  ?  * 

BY    REV.     EDWARD    CAPEL    CURE,     LONDON. 

So  teach  us  to  number  our  days,  that  we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto  wisdom. 
— Psalm  xc.  12. 

I.  The  uncertain  duration  of  life. 

1.  The  high  pressure  of  modern  life  increases  this  uncertainty. 
Overtaxed  hearts  and  brains  yield  suddenly,  and  the  frail  thread  of 
life  snaps  as  tow  when  touched  by  the  flame. 

2.  The  illustrations  abound  on  all  sides.  To  no  community  are 
sudden  deaths  unknown.  On  all  sides  we  see  strong  men  sud- 
denly stricken. 

3.  It  should  alter  our  standard  of  value  of  men.  The  uncertainty 
in  the  time  of  death  involves  the  instability  of  the  most  brilliant 
talents  and  richest  possessions.  What  a  man  has  is  too  often  the 
standard  of  worth,  while  a  man  is  living  ;  what  he  has  done,  is  the 
ultimate  standard  of  the  world  ;  what  he  has  been,  is  God's 
standard. 

II.   Why  sudden  death  should  be  deprecated. 
I.   //  inflicts  anguish  upon  the  living. 

*  On  the  occasion  of  the  death  of  His  Grace,  the  Duke  of  Marl- 
borough, K.G. 


268  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

2.  We  need  the  lessons  taught  us  from  sick-beds.  The  prayers,  the 
counsel,  the  exhortations  of  the  dying  have  brought  many  to  the 
cross.     Christ  is  brought  nearer  in  suffering. 

3.  //  deprives  those  unprepared  for  death,  of  a  last  chance  of  repent- 
ance. 


THE   WEB   OF    LIFE. 

BY    REV.     EDWARD    BLENC0WE,    IRELAND. 

My  days  are  swifter  than  a  weaver's  shuttle. — Job  vii.  6. 

i.  The  swiftness  of  our  days.  We  are  apt  not  to  prize  them  till 
they  are  gone.  Each  was  full  of  mercies  ;  did  we  appreciate 
them  ?  Each  was  full  of  opportunities  ;  did  we  use  or  abuse 
them  ?     "  The  wheel  will  never  grind  to  the  water  that  is  past." 

2.  Each  day  adds  a  thread  to  the  web  of  life.  Each  day  has  its 
influence  for  good  or  evil,  for  sin  or  holiness,  for  God  or  Satan. 
Of  how  great  importance  then  to  "  number  my  days"  ! 

3.  What  we  ftow  weave  we  shall  wear  in  eternity.  Our  life  shall 
be  brought  into  evidence  to  show  whether  we  have  been  believers 
or  not.  ' '  Whatsoever  a  man  soweth  that  shall  he  also  reap. ' '  If 
we  live  after  the  flesh,  death  !  If  we  live  after  the  spirit,  life  eter- 
nal !     What  is  the  web  your  life  is  weaving  ? 

a.  On  what  are  you  resting  your  hope  for  salvation  ? 

b.  Is  it  your  sincere  desire  to  be  conformed  to  the  likeness  of 
Jesus  ? 

c.  Do  you  live  in  the  spirit  of  prayer  ? 

d.  Consider  at  the  close  of  each  day  how  it  has  been  spent. 


THE   SECRET   OF   A   SUCCESSFUL   MINISTRY.* 

BY    THOMAS    ARMITAGE,    D.D. ,     NEW   YORK. 

Before  whose  eyes  Jesus  Christ  hath  been  evidently  set  forth. — GALATIANS 
iii.  1. 

I .    He  had  seen  the  Lord  Jesus  crucified. 

No  man  can  show  the  Lord  unto  others  until  he  has  seen  Him 
for  himself.  Doubt  will  weaken  any  man,  but  it  will  paralyze  the 
preacher's  right  arm. 

*  In  memory  of  Rev.  Bartholomew  Trow  Welch,  D.D. 


SERMONS  ABRIDGED.  269 

2.  He  felt  it  ihe  great  end  of  his  life  to  show  Christ  crucified  to 
others. 

He  looked  upon  the  style,  the  pen,  the  type,  in  publishing  the 
Gospel  as  subordinate  to  the  voice  of  the  living  preacher.  He  felt 
he  must  speak,  for  the  fire  was  shut  up  in  his  bones. 

3.  He  unsparingly  devoted  all  the  time  his  lofty  theme  demanded. 

If  his  study  walls  could  cry  out  to  its  timbers,  they  would  tell 
you  that  he  could  not  in  conscience  attempt  to  preach  the  Gospel 
till  he  had  thoroughly  studied  it. 

4.  He  consecrated  all  his  ability  to  setting  forth  Christ  crucified. 
He  held  up  the  cross, 

a.  In  his  own  originality. 

b.  With  boldness. 

c.  With  childlike  simplicity. 


THE    DEATH    OF   THE   RIGHTEOUS. 

BY    DR.     DAVID    THOMAS,    LONDON. 

Let  me  die  ihe  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his. — 
Numbers  xxiii.  10. 

1.  Righteous  men  die.  Death  is  no  "  respecter  of  persons." 
While  it  pays  no  regard  to  adventitious  distinctions,  it  is  equally 
regardless  of  moral  ;  it  strikes  down  the  good  as  well  as  the  bad, 
and  sometimes  the  blow  is  equally  sudden  and  severe.  "  There 
is  no  discharge  in  that  warfare."  "  Dust  thou  art,  and  unto  dust 
thou  shalt  return."     This  is  the  law,  rigorous  and  inexorable. 

2.  Bad  men  would  die  like  them.  ' '  Let  my  last  end  be  like  his. 
These  are  the  words  of  Balaam,  a  bad  man.  The  death  of  the 
righteous  is  a  desirable  death.  He  dies  with  no  moral  remorse, 
no  terrible  forebodings,  but  with  a  peaceful  conscience  and  a 
glorious  hope.  ' '  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting  ?  O  grave,  where 
is  thy  victory  ?"  While  the  wicked  are  driven  away  in  their  wick- 
edness, the  righteous  have  hope  in  their  death.  This  desirable 
death  is  only  gained  by  a  righteous  life.  It  is  useless  to  say  with 
Balaam,  "  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous."  You  must 
live  the  life  of  the  righteous,  and  then  you  will  die  the  "  death  of 
the  righteous. ' '     A  noble  life  is  the  guarantee  of  a  lovely  death. 


SERMONS  IN  OUTLINE. 


The  Life  Eternal.  — Job  xxiv.  22:  "  No  man  is  sure  of  life. ' ' 
Then  let  every  one  make  sure  of  life  eternal. 

The  sure  Support. — Jer.  xlviii.  17  :  "  How  is  the  strong  staff 
broken,  and  the  beautiful  rod  !"  Human  props  removed  to 
remind  us  of  the  only  sure  support  we  have  in  God. 

Death  in  the  Prime  of  Life. — Amos  viii.  9  :  "  I  will  cause  the 
sun  to  go  down  at  noon,  and  I  will  darken  the  earth  in  the  clear 
day."  Sudden  death,  sudden  glory  to  the  believer.  Taken  away 
in  one's  prime,  yet  not  "  untimely."  God's  chronometer  never 
mistakes. 

A  Christian' s  Contemplation  of  Death. — "  The  putting  off  of  my 
tabernacle  cometh  swiftly,"  etc.  (2  Pet.  i.  14).  1.  The  bodybuta 
tabernacle.  2.  The  putting  off  this  tabernacle.  3.  When  our 
death  shall  occur,  "swiftly."  4.  Whence  our  knowledge  of 
this  :  ' '  Our  Lord  hath  showed  me. ' ' 

The  Golden  Bowl. — Eccl.  xii.  6.  The  body  of  a  consecrated 
disciple  of  Christ  is  emphatically  a  "  golden"  vessel,  and  worthy 
special  honor  even  when  emptied.  The  breaking  of  such  a 
"bowl"  is  a  special  loss  to  the  Church,  though  the  change  of 
habitation  to  the  disciple  himself  is  great  gain. 

The  New  Sepulchre. — John  xix.  41.  Life's  pleasures  and  pos- 
sessions shadowed  by  death — sometimes  by  dead  friendships  or 
gnawing  grief  and  cankering  care.  All  of  these  may  be,  like  the 
tomb  of  Joseph,  changed  into  a  joy,  a  treasure,  and  uplifting  in- 
spiration. 

Light  in  Darkness. — Job  xxxvii.  21  :  "  Men  see  not  the  bright 
light  which  is  in  the  clouds, ' '   because  of  human  limitations,  but 


SERMONS  IN  OUTLINE.  271 

mainly  through  lack  of  congenial,  sympathetic  union  with  God. 
"  Unto  the  upright  arises  light  in  darkness.'"'  "  The  secret  of  the 
Lord,"  etc.  Pillar  and  cloud  led  one  people,  and  baffled  and 
perplexed  another. 

Sorrow  too  great  for  Words. — Eccl.  xii.  2  :  "The  clouds 
return  after  the  rain."  Coming  home  from  the  burial  of  his  little 
Agnes,  Dr.  Nehemiah  Adams  drew  out  of  his  pocket  the  ribbon- 
tied  key  of  her  casket,  "  '  then  the  clouds  returned  after  the  rain.' 
I  thought  for  a  few  minutes  that  I  should  lose  my  reason."  Speech 
then  is  powerless  to  comfort. 

God  in  the  Valley. — The  Syrians  (1  Kings  xx.  28)  thought  that 
Israel  gained  their  victories  because  their  God  was  a  God  of  the 
hills.  God  determined  to  prove  to  them  that  He  was  a  God  of 
the  valleys  as  well,  and  could  succor  His  people  there  also.  What 
victories  has  He  given  His  people  in  the  valleys  !  Job,  Joseph, 
Daniel,  Paul,  saints  in  all  ages  can  testify  God  is  God  of  the  valleys 
as  well  as  of  the  hills,  of  adversity  as  well  as  of  prosperity. 

Certainty  of  the  Resurrection.  — "  Thy  brother  shall  rise  again" 
(John  xi.  23).  Jesus  said  so,  and  it  came  to  pass.  He  has  power 
over  the  grave.  The  forces  of  death  are  obedient  to  Him.  He 
surrendered  Himself  to  death  in  its  most  terrible  form,  and  freed 
Himself  unharmed.  Hence  the  resurrection  is  possible,  for  there 
is  One  who  has  power  over  death.  It  is  certain  ;  for  that  One  has 
promised  it,  and  His  word  is  truth. 

Nearness  of  the  Unseen  World. —  The  eyes  of  the  prophet's 
companion  were  opened,  and  he  saw  the  hills  covered  with  an 
army  of  angels  (2  Kings  vi.  17).  We  are  surrounded  by  clouds 
of  witnesses,  are  in  the  midst  of  the  more  real  and  stupendous  of 
the  two  universes,  and  yet  we  see  nothing,  hear  nothing,  feel  noth- 
ing of  it.  We  look  with  an  owl's  eye  into  broad  daylight,  and 
declare  that  it  is  Egyptian  darkness.  Two  things  are  essential  to 
vision,  an  organ  and  light.  A  noonday  of  glory  is  around  us  and 
yet  we  ask,  Where  is  heaven  ? 

Death  the  Development  of  Life. — "  To  die  is  gain"  (Phil.  i.  21). 
1.  Death  is  the  falling  of  the  flower  and  the  expanding  of  the  fruit. 
At  death  we  lay  aside  the  body,  with  its  fleshly  lusts  and  appetites, 
its  pains  and  passions.      2.   It  is  the  soul's  deliverance  from  bond- 


272  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

age,  and  its  entrance  upon  the  joyful  freedom  of  heaven.  3.  It 
introduces  us  to  holy  society,  and  into  scenes  of  glory  and  ever- 
lasting rest.     To  a  good  man  it  is  all  gain. 

The  Glorified  Dead. — "  And  I  heard  a  voice  from  heaven  saying, 
Write,"  etc.  (Rev.  xiv.  13).  1.  The  interest  of  heaven  in 
the  glorified  dead.  Proclaimed — "  voice  ;"  and  is  permanent  in 
its  continuance — "write."  2.  The  character  of  their  death — 
"  in  the  Lord."  Complete  union  between  the  dead  and  Christ. 
3.  Their  condition  after  death — ' '  rest ;"  not  inaction  or  indolence, 
but  perfection  in  service  and  honor.  4.  Their  posthumous  influ- 
ence— "  their  works  follow  them" — going  on,  ever  widening  and 
deepening. 

Grandeur  of  the  Christian  s  Death. — "  Death  is  swallowed  up  in 
victory"  (1  Cor.  xv.  54).  1.  The  only  thing  that  gives  death  any 
power  over  us  is  sin.  In  the  case  of  a  Christian,  sin  is  pardoned, 
and  so  the  sting  of  death  is  withdrawn.  2.  Death  hath  been  abol- 
ished, and  it  is,  to  the  good  man,  the  gate  that  opens  into  a 
higher  life  and  state  of  being.  Through  Christ  he  has  wrested  the 
dart  from  death's  hands,  and  it  has  now  no  power  over  him.  In 
his  so-called  death  he  is  a  conqueror.  It  is  the  time  of  greatest 
triumph,  because  the  time  of  nearest  home. 

Waste  of  Life.  — ' '  To  what  purpose  is  this  waste  ?' '  (Matt, 
xxvi.  8.)  The  most  precious  things  seem  ruthlessly  destroyed, 
and  life,  culture,  influence,  wealth,  commanding  power  for  good, 
seem  extinguished,  while  the  worthless  and  positively  bad  are 
allowed  to  cumber  the  world.  "  Shall  not  the  Judge  of  all  the 
earth  do  right  ?"  His  thoughts  and  His  ways  are  above  ours  and 
past  finding  out.  Moreover,  nothing  is  lost.  Social  affection 
cannot  die  ;  the  fruits  of  culture  are  perpetuated  in  character  for- 
ever. Memory  lives.  Nothing  is  wasted  of  the  soul-treasures  of 
the  departed,  and  nothing  of  the  good  which  has  been  done  by 
them  while  in  the  flesh. 

Christ  Comforting  Mourners.  — * '  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled  : 
ye  believe  in  God,"  etc.  (John  xiv.  1,  2).  The  disciples,  it  is 
true,  were  not  mourning  over  one  who  was  already  dead  ;  their 
sorrow  arose  from  being  told  by  their  Master  that  He  was  about  to 
be  separated  from  them.     They  could  not  bear  the  thought  of 


SERMONS  IN  OUTLINE.  273 

parting  from  Him,  although  it  was  for  their  benefit  that  He  was 
leaving  them.  He  comforted  them  in  this  "  trouble"  by,  1.  Ex- 
horting them  to  believe  in  Him.  2.  Assuring  them  that  in  His 
Father's  house  were  many  mansions,  which  He  was  going  to  pre- 
pare for  them.  3.  Telling  them  that  He  would  come  again  and 
receive  them  to  Himself  in  the  mansions  of  eternal  fellowship. 

The  Forgotten  Dead. — "The  righteous  perisheth,  and  no  man 
layeth  it  to  heart,"  etc.  (Isa.  lvii.  1).  1.  The  body  only  of  the 
righteous  can  perish.  This  returns  to  dust.  Why,  then,  pamper 
the  body,  why  give  to  its  wants  and  enjoyments  the  chief  care  ? 
2.  Their  death  is  a  deliverance  from  future  evils.  These  are  many 
and  grievous.  3.  Their  death  is  a  step  into  a  better,  nobler  life. 
Their  bodies  sleep.  Their  souls  live  on,  progressing  upward  eter- 
nally. 4.  But  how  slightly  is  the  death  of  even  the  righteous 
regarded  !  The  thought  of  death  is  repugnant  to  many,  and  the 
cares  of  life  are  so  pressing.  We  should  lay  to  heart  the  death  of 
the  righteous,  and  our  prayer  should  be  that  our  latter  end  may  be 
as  his. 

Death  will  not  End  Us. — "  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life" 
(John  xi.  25).  Christ  proved  His  power  over  death  by  going 
through  the  grave  and  back  again.  Death  is  the  breaking  of  the 
shell  that  gives  the  bird  a  world  instead  of  a  narrow  cell,  powers  of 
flight  and  vision  of  which  no  revelation  could  have  given  it  an 
adequate  conception.  The  grave,  more  than  the  cradle,  will 
mark  the  commencement  of  true  living.  As  we  stand  by  the 
graves  of  dear  ones,  we  have  a  right  to  say  : 

"  Believing,  in  the  midst  of  our  afflictions, 
That  death  is  a  beginning,  not  an  end, 

We  cry  to  them,  and  send 
Farewells,  that  better  might  be  called  predictions, 
Being   foreshadowings  of  the  future,  thrown 

Into  the  vast  Unknown." 

Human  Life. — "What  is  your  life  ?"  (Jas.  iv.  14).  1.  Life  is 
the  gift  of  God.  We  cannot  breathe  a  breath  apart  from  His  per- 
mission. The  babe  sleeping  in  its  cot  breathes  involuntarily,  be- 
cause its  breath  is  in  God's  hands.  2.  Being  God's  gift,  it  should 
be  devoted  to  great  purposes.  The  mere  lapse  of  time  is  not  life. 
Eating,  drinking,  sleeping,  are  not  life.     The  end  of  life  is  to  be 


274  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

like  God.  In  this  way  do  we  glorify  Him.  3.  It  is  the  period  of 
our  preparation  for  a  higher  and  a  better  life.  There  is  no  perfec- 
tion in  this  life.  The  oldest  and  wisest  man  is  a  mere  child,  and 
is  full  of  imperfections.  It  is  a  probation.  4.  Life  is  transitory 
and  uncertain  ;  vapor  ;  voyage  ;  pilgrimage  ;  a  drama  ;  a  rain- 
bow. 

Death  a  Sleep. — "  Asleep  in  Christ"  (1  Cor.  xv.  18).  Nowhere 
in  the'New  Testament  is  death  represented  by  any  figure  of  speech 
which  implies  ghastliness  and  dread.  Frequently  do  the  sacred 
writers  compare  it  to  sleep.  The  little  child  has  played  all  day 
long,  and  is  tired,  and  the  shadows  of  evening  send  it  in  weari- 
ness to  its  little  cot,  where  its  mother  lays  it  to  sleep.  The  strong 
man  has  battled  all  day  with  the  cares  and  duties  of  life,  and  longs 
to  lay  his  head  on  the  pillow  and  sleep.  So  we  fall  asleep  in 
Jesus.  The  games  of  life  are  over  ;  the  work  of  the  day  of  life  is 
finished.  We  are  tired  out,  and  we  lay  our  heads  on  the  bosom 
of  Jesus  and  fall  asleep  in  Him  !  1.  Sleep  implies  rest  from 
labor.      2.    Renewed  strength.      3.    Awaking  in  the  morning. 

Death  a  New  Birth. — "  It  is  sown  a  natural  body  ;  it  is  raised  a 
spiritual  body"  (1  Cor.  xv.  44).  This  life  is  but  the  womb  of  the 
life  to  come.  Here  we  are  perfected  for  the  birth  into  a  higher 
life.  Through  the  grave  we  enter  upon  a  new  existence.  1.  The 
gates  of  death,  as  of  birth,  are  hinged  to  open  only  one  way. 
Man  can  progress  from  one  condition  to  another,  but  cannot 
return.  2.  He  who  prepared  for  us  the  natural  body,  when  we 
entered  this  sphere  of  existence,  will  prepare  for  us  the  spiritual 
body  for  the  next.  3.  Adaptation  of  both  to  our  condition.  As 
the  caterpillar  in  due  time  throws  off  its  repulsive  body,  and  comes 
out  in  beauteous  colors  ;  as  from  the  uncomely  egg  is  produced  a 
bird  of  gayest  plumage,  so  at  our  birth  into  a  higher  state  of  being 
God  will  give  a  body  resplendent  and  glorious. 

The  Dead  Child. — ■"All  were  weeping  and  bewailing  her,  but 
He  said,"  etc.  (Luke  viii.  52).  The  history  in  which  these  words 
are  found  records  one  of  the  most  distinguished  miracles  of  Christ. 
1.  The  sorrow  at  the  death  of  the  child.  This  grief  is  natural, 
not  forbidden  ;  yet  it  often  springs  from  small  faith.  The  cer- 
tainty of  the  resurrection,  and  of  the  presence  of  an  infinitely 
powerful  and  kind  God,  wipes  away  tears.     Christ  did  not  rebuke 


SERMONS  IN  OUTLINE.  275 

the  tears  at  the  grave  of  Lazarus,  but  the  lack  of  faith.  2.  Christ's 
consoling  view  of  death.  "  Not  dead,  but  sleepeth."  Sleep  im- 
plies an  awaking.  Death,  then,  does  not  end  us.  3.  Christ  the 
awakener.  No  one  but  Christ  could  have  awakened  that  maid. 
Christ  makes  the  grave  but  a  door  through  which  we  pass.  Hence- 
forth the  sting  and  victory  of  death  and  the  grave  have  passed 
away. 

Fellowship  and  Recogniiiott  in  Heaven.  —  "To-day  shalt  thou  be 
with  Me  in  paradise"  (Luke  xxiii.  43).  There  is  but  a  step 
between  the  cross  and  heaven.  From  the  cross  Jesus  soars  to 
paradise,  taking  with  Him  a  ransomed  soul.  The  reply  of  Jesus 
to  the  prayer  of  the  penitent  thief  clearly  teaches,  among  other 
important  truths  :  1.  Heavenly  recognition.  We  may  not  know 
each  other  here.  We  live  in  different  countries,  cities,  homes,  and 
so  are  strangers.  Heaven  is  represented  as  the  home  of  the  good, 
and  is  called  "  our  Father's  house,"  and  surely  the  children  will 
all  be  acquainted.  2.  Mutual  fellowship.  Members  of  the  same 
family — subjects  of  the  same  government — children  of  the  same 
Father — pursuits,  thoughts,  desires,  one. 

From  Shadows  info  Daylight — "Seek  him  .  .  .  that  turneth 
the  shadow  of  death  into  the  morning"  (Amos  v.  8).  It  is  but 
natural  to  feel  that  death  is  an  enemy.  It  is  called  by  many 
figures  which  indicate  horror  and  darkness.  Yet  in  order  to  get 
to  heaven  one  must  die.  Between  us  and  Europe  rolls  the  dreadful 
ocean.  Some  make  little  of  crossing  it,  others  cannot  pluck  up 
heart  enough  to  encounter  it.  It  is  so  with  death.  Even  some 
Christians  become  timorous  and  fearful  when  they  contemplate 
the  "  narrow  sea  that  divides  this  heavenly  land  from  ours."  It 
is  an  ordinance  of  nature,  and  like  every  ordinance  of  nature  it  is 
directed  to  beneficent  ends.  Night  precedes  the  morning.  To 
die  is  to  find  the  morning,  beauty  and  perfect  rest.  1.  God  turns 
death  to  immortality.  2.  The  act  of  dying  He  turneth  into  our 
entrance  into  heaven.  3.  We  come  out  of  darkness  and  shadows, 
at  death,  into  morning  and  light. 

The  Empty  Seat. — "  Thou  shalt  be  missed,  because  thy  seat 
will  be  empty"  (1  Sam.  xx.  18).  1.  Death  causes  an  absence 
more  complete  than  that  Jonathan  feared.  The  silence  is  un- 
broken,  profound.     The  separation  wrought  by  death  is  absolute 


276  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

as  far  as  eye  or  ear  or  any  physical  sense  can  measure.  After 
death  has  passed,  the  seat  of  our  friend  is  empty  indeed.  2.  This 
empty  seat  recalls  and  impresses  the  virtues  of  him  that  is  gone. 
His  kindly  words,  his  noble  resolutions  and  deeds,  how  they  crowd 
into  memory  !  3.  That  empty  seat,  however,  is  proof  of  the 
absence  only  of  the  material  portion  of  him  whose  death  we  lament. 
The  seats  of  Moses  and  Elias  were  vacant  on  earth,  yet  they  made 
it  manifest  on  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration  that  they  had  not 
departed  wholly  from  the  earth,  nor  lost  interest  in  earthly  affairs. 
Though  his  seat  is  vacant,  our  friend  is  still  with  us.  4.  This 
empty  seat  reminds  us  that  at  death's  bidding  we  must  also,  sooner 
or  later,  leave  our  places  on  earth. 

Recognition  beyond  the  Grave.  — On  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration 
how  instantly  the  disciples  recognized  Moses  and  Elias  (Matt.  xvii. 
3,  4),  whom  they  knew  only  through  their  minds  and  their  hearts 
— whom  they  had  never  seen  with  the  natural  eye.  Soul  recogniz- 
ing soul  !  There  is  a  power  of  vision  apart  from  the  natural  eye — 
immediate  soul-sight.  Dr.  Beard,  the  late  eminent  physician  in 
New  York,  declared  that  he  had  demonstrated  by  exhaustive  experi- 
ments, that  there  are  conditions  of  mind  in  which  a  man  may  see 
everything  about  him  and  yet  be  blindfolded.  There  are  powers 
within  us  of  which  philosophers  have  scarcely,  as  yet,  dreamed.  It 
is  nothing  strange  that  we  should  know  at  a  glance  in  the  ether 
world,  the  Wesleys,  Calvin,  Luther,  Paul— the  men  whose  hearts, 
whose  souls,  we  have  studied.  We  will  need  no  pointing  out,  no 
introduction.  How  quickly  the  rich  man,  in  torment,  recognized 
Lazarus  and  Abraham  !  Distance  did  not  dim  his  vision.  Far 
easier  the  mother  will  recognize  her  child,  the  wife  her  husband. 
Sad  thought  were  it  otherwise. 

"  It  were  a  double  grief  if  the  true-hearted, 
Who  loved  us  here,  should,  on  the  other  shore, 
Remember  us  no  more." 

Acquiescence  in  Bereavement.  — "  Is  it  well  with  the  child  ?  And 
she  answered,  It  is  well  "  (2  Kings  iv.  26).  Life  abounds  with 
illustrations  of  the  fact  that  the  greater  the  blessings  we  enjoy  the 
greater  the  agony  felt  at  their  loss.  What  greater  blessing  to  a 
mother  than  her  child  ?  In  the  case  before  us  a  mother  is  bereaved 
of  a  child,  and  yet  when  asked,  "  Is  it  well  with  the  child  ?"  she 


SERMONS  IN  OUTLINE.  277 

answered,  "It  is  well."  1.  A  great  trial  acquiescingly  endured. 
What  wonderful  resignation  !  In  reply  to  a  difficulty  suggested 
by  her  husband  in  setting  out  on  her  journey  she  replied  :  "It 
shall  be  well."  When  she  answered  the  question  as  to  her  child, 
she  said,  "  It  is  well. "  Though  I  left  my  dear  boy  a  corpse  at 
home,  and  my  heart  bleeds,  I  feel  it  is  all  well.  2.  The  grounds 
of  her  resignation,  a.  She  knew  it  was  the  dispensation  of  a  Father 
all-wise  and  all-loving,  and  she  bowed  to  His  will.  b.  She  believed 
that  her  child  was  better  off  and  that  God  would  overrule  the 
trial  for  her  own  good.  A  state  of  mind  so  magnanimous  as  this, 
under  great  sorrow,  is  the  duty  and  privilege  of  all  the  holy  and 
good. 

Crossing  the  River. — "Prepare  you  victuals;  for  within  three 
days  ye  shall  pass  over  this  Jordan"  (Josh.  i.  n).  1.  There  is  a 
determinate  boundary  to  every  life.  This  is  illustrated  by  the 
relation  of  the  Jordan  to  the  pilgrimage  of  the  Israelites.  That 
was  a  visible  limit ;  the  limit  of  life  is  invisible.  The  precise  time 
was  known  when  the  Jordan  was  to  be  passed — "  three  days  ;"  of 
the  day  and  hour  when  death's  border  is  to  be  crossed  knoweth 
no  man.  2.  There  is  a  necessity  for  crossing  the  boundary. 
Palestine  could  not  be  entered  save  through  Jordan  ;  the  spirit 
world  cannot  be  entered  save  through  death.  Sin  has  made  death 
a  necessity,  giving  existence  to  its  "  cold  flood."  Yet  under 
God's  guidance  death  may  be  made  a  gateway  for  the  soul  to  a 
Canaan  that  will  yield  a  far  richer  result  than  "  milk  and  honey." 
3.  Preparation  for  crossing  required.  "  Prepare  you  victuals." 
Humble  confession  of  sin  ;  a  hearty  repentance  ;  a  turning  away 
from  evil  ;  thankful  acknowledgment  of  mercies  received  ;  a 
quickening  faith  in  the  Great  High  Priest  who  crosses  with  the 
pilgrim  ;  a  hope  of  an  inheritance  on  the  other  side — these  con- 
stitute the  "  victuals"  which  are  to  stay  the  Christian  as  he  passes 
over  the  Jordan  that  separates  this  wilderness  of  life  from  the 
Canaan  beyond. 

The  Withered  Gourd.  — "  God  prepared  a  worm  when  the  morning 
rose  the  next  day,  and  it  smote  the  gourd  that  it  withered"  (Jonah 
iv.  7).  A  child  is  like  Jonah's  gourd — God's  gift  and  man's  com- 
fort     1.   God  has  a  right  to  recall  His  gifts.     They  are  still  His 


278  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

property.  They  are  only  loaned.  2.  God  may  recall  at  any 
time.  He  has  given  no  lease  and  specified  no  length  of  time  that 
the  gift  shall  be  left  with  us.  He  has  placed  Himself  under  no 
obligation.  3.  God  may  recall  the  gift  when  it  is  apparently  most 
needed.  "  When  the  morning  rose"  the  gourd  was  smitten. 
Jonah  needed  the  gourd  most  then  as  a  shelter  from  the  sun's  heat. 
4.  God  may  recall  the  gift  when  we  are  beginning  to  appreciate  it 
most.  When  "  Jonah  was  exceeding  glad  because  of  the  gourd  " 
it  withered.  When  parents  are  saying  of  their  child,  "  This  same 
shall  comfort  us,"  it  is  smitten.  5.  God  may  recall  the  gift  by 
any  instrumentality  He  may  choose.  "A  worm"  smote  the 
gourd.  Some  apparently  insignificant  thing  may  be  God's  agent 
for  our  deprivation.  6.  God,  after  recalling  the  gift,  can  comfort 
the  sorrowing,  and  can  compensate  for  the  loss.  Jonah  had  this 
experience,  and  so  will  all  who  look  to  God  through  Christ. 

The  Christian  s  Mastership  aver  Death. — "  For  all  things  are 
yours  :  whether  .  .  .  life  or  death"  (1  Cor.  iii.  22).'  Develop- 
ment in  our  life  on  earth  is  limited,  as  is  the  development  of  the 
bird  in  the  egg.  The  bursting  of  the  egg-shell  is  no  disaster, 
but  a  relief  and  a  profit.  That  breaking  of  the  shell  brings  the 
bird  into  a  world  that  is  unspeakably  more  glorious.  Death  is 
our  servant,  not  our  master — through  Christ  an  immeasurable 
blessing.      Because — 

1.  It  restores  us  more  nearly  to  our  friends  who  have  gone 
beyond.  Yet  it  does  not,  if  we  interpret  death  rightly,  remove  us 
from  our  friends  on  earth  ;  for  the  dead  are  ministering  spirits 
permitted  by  God  to  help  more  potently  the  world  than  when  in 
the  flesh.  The  spirits  of  Moses  and  Elias  communed  with  Christ 
on  the  mount,  doubtless  concerning  His  mission  to  men.  Whose 
heart  does  not  yearn  to  meet  the  dear  ones  gone  ? 

2.  It  brings  us  nearer  to  Christ.  Paul  was  eager  to  be  absent 
from  the  body  that  he  might  be  present  with  the  Lord.  Beyond 
the  grave,  in  a  special  sense,  is  the  Christian  present  with  Christ. 
3.  It  places  us  in  a  position  more  favorable  for  soul-growth.  4.  It 
increases  our  capacity  for  usefulness.  Those  who  are  faithful  in 
this  life  in  a  few  things,  will  be  made  in  the  life  to  come  rulers 
over  many  things.  5.  As  a  consequence  our  happiness  will  be 
greatly  augmented. 


SERMONS  IN  OUTLINE.  279 

Resurrection  of  the  Dead. — "  Why  is  it  judged  incredible  with 
you,  if  God  doth  raise  the  dead?"  (Acts  xxvi.  8).  It  would 
be  difficult  to  explain  how  the  identity  of  the  body  can  be  pre- 
served while  the  matter  composing  it  is  changed  ;  but  our  difficulty 
in  explaining  can  present  no  reason  for  denying  the  fact.  1.  It  is 
neither  against  the  Power,  the  Wisdom,  nor  the  Will  of  God. 
God  wills  nothing  that  is  not  wise  and  good,  and  whatever  He 
wills  He  has  the  power  to  accomplish.  He  has  performed  greater 
things  than  raising  the  dead.  2.  We  see  vital  exemplifications  of 
it  daily.  The  matter  of  our  bodies  undergoes  a  change  every 
seven  years,  yet  our  body's  identity  is  preserved.  Look  at  trees 
and  plants  in  winter  time,  and  see  them  when  the  breath  of  spring 
has  touched  them  into  life.  Study  the  insect,  at  first  a  crawling 
worm.  The  hour  arrives  when  it  bursts  its  cerements  and  becomes 
a  pure-winged,  beautiful  creature,  sailing  in  sunny  skies.  Paul 
saw  our  grave  in  the  furrow  of  the  plough  ;  our  burial  in  the  corn 
dropped  in  the  soil  ;  and  our  resurrection  in  the  grain  bursting  its 
sheath  to  wave  its  head  in  summer  sunshine.  3.  The  resurrec- 
tion of  the  body  is  less  inexplicable  than  its  creation.  It  is  not 
the  same  thing  to  rekindle  an  extinguished  lamp  and  to  show  fire 
that  has  never  yet  appeared.  4.  The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  pur- 
posely rose  again  in  His  human  body,  as  a  pattern  and  firstfruit 
of  our  resurrection. 

Alone  in  Death. — Moses  was  alone  with  God  on  Nebo  in  his 
dying  hour  (Deut.  xxxii.  49,  50  ;  Deut.  xxxiv.  5,  6).  No  rela- 
tive, no  earthly  friend,  was  allowed  to  witness  that  strange  death 
scene.  Our  friends  and  relatives  may  approach  us  more  nearly  in 
the  last  hour  ;  yet,  in  a  sense,  we  shall  be  alone  in  the  death 
struggle,  as  was  Moses.  Death  is  an  individual  matter.  There 
is  a  point  beyond  which  the  parent  cannot  accompany  the  child, 
nor  the  husband  the  wife.  In  this  seemingly  the  most  momentous 
of  all  conflicts — the  battle  of  the  death-bed — no  earthly  friend  can 
give  us  aid.  It  is  only  seemingly  the  most  momentous — the  vital 
conflict  is  fought  before  that  hour — that  conflict  in  choice  which 
determines  whether  God  and  good  angels  will  also  be  absent  from 
our  dying  bed,  or  present,  as  they  were  with  Moses.  What  is  it 
that  can  give  comfort  in  that  hour  of  loneliness  ?  1.  The 
memories  of  a  life  spent  in  striving  to  obey  God.     Said  the  veteran 


28o  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

apostle,  as  he  looked  grim  death  full  in  the  face  :  "  I  have  fought 
the  good  fight ;  I  have  kept  the  faith."  What  illuminating  and 
cheering  memories  had  Moses  !  2.  A  developed  Christian  char- 
acter. The  consciousness  of  having  been  builded  in  Christ,  of 
having  grown  to  the  full  stature  of  Christian  manhood — this  will 
cheer  the  Christian.  He  knows  he  enters  the  other  world  not  a 
babe,  but  a  man  in  spirit.  3.  The  sure  hope  of  a  glorious  life 
beyond.  It  cheered  Paul — the  hope  of  the  crown  that  was  laid 
up  for  him.  4.  Above  all,  the  conscious  presence  of  Christ,  the 
beloved,  and  the  assurances  of  His  continued  presence  forever. 
The  thief  on  the  cross  was  made  glad  at  the  thought  that  Christ 
was  by  his  side,  and  doubly  glad  at  the  words  :  "  This  day  thou 
shalt  be  with  me  in  Paradise."  How  easy  to  imagine  that  to  the 
Christian  the  hour  of  death  is  the  happiest  of  all  his  existence  on 
earth  ! 


EXTRACTS  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


THOUGHTS    ON   LIFE. 
Life  is  a  noise  between  two  silences. 

Short  is  the  little  that  remains  to  thee  of  life.  Live  as  on  a 
mountain  ! — Marcus  Aurelius. 

Pass  through  life  comformably  to  nature  and  end  the  journey  in 
content,  just  as  an  olive  falls  off  when  it  is  ripe  ;  blessing  nature 
who  produced  it,  and  thanking  the  tree  on  which  it  grew. — 
Marcus  Aurelius. 

Life  is  a  turbulent  sea.  Changing  circumstances  come  rolling 
after  each  other  like  the  billows,  ever  climbing  up  the  climbing 
wave.  In  heaven  there  is  no  more  sea,  but  perpetual  stability  of 
joy — unbroken  rest. — Alexander  Maclaren. 

A  railroad  car  once  carried  a  man  whose  mind  had  faded  into 
a  blank  and  whose  end  was  to  be  an  asylum  ;  a  criminal  whose 
destiny  was  a  dungeon  ;  and  a  bride  on  her  way  to  her  new  home 
and  the  welcome  of  new  friends.  Time  will  soon  bring  all,  the 
good,  the  bad  and  the  irresponsible  to  the  last  stopping  place. 

I  have  been  always  regarded  as  exceptionally  favored  by  fortune, 
and  I  do  not  wish  to  complain  or  find  fault  with  the  course  of  my 
life.  But,  after  all,  it  is  nothing  but  labor  and  toil  ;  and  I  may 
truly  say  that  during  my  seventy-five  years  I  have  not  had  four 
weeks  of  real  comfort.  It  is  the  never-ceasing  rolling  of  a  stone 
which  must  always  be  lifted  anew. — Goeihe. 

Life  a  cathedral. — When  in  its  prime,  its  strength  and  beauty 
evoke  admiration,  and  its  walls  echo  to  sweetly-solemn  strains  ; 
but  in  age,    the   "  well-turned  cornices    crumble  into    dust,    its 


282  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

arches  fall  one  by  one,  and  its  pillars  fail  to  give  the  needed  sup- 
port. Such  a  mind  seems  to  be  attending  the  funeral  of  its  own 
faculties,  and  mourning  their  untimely  decay." — Prof.  Park. 

Bossuet  says  that  life  is  like  a  road  that  ends  in  an  awful  preci- 
pice. We  know  that  at  the  beginning.  We  would  gladly  stop, 
but  there  is  an  irresistible  force  which  impels  us  to  walk,  and 
finally  to  run.  The  speed  increases  as  the  end  draws  near. 
Objects  that  attracted  at  first,  lose  their  distinctness  and  beauty. 
The  flowers  are  less  bright,  the  meadows  less  blooming,  and  every- 
thing fades.  We  begin  to  feel  the  fatal  gulf,  but  we  cannot  return, 
and  the  shadow  of  death  finally  falls.  Chrysostom  says  that  life  is 
but  a  scene  in  a  theatre.  We  are  actors.  We  play  our  part  for  a 
moment  and  disappear.  The  curtain  falls,  and  all  is  over.  The 
only  thing  valuable  about  us  is  the  soul,  and  that  is  the  very  thing 
about  which  we  occupy  ourselves  the  least. 

We  are  accustomed  to  think  that  an  eminent  and  complete 
character,  a  character  sweet  and  of  majestic  purity,  insures  length 
of  davs  ;  that  great  usefulness  makes  length  of  days  more  probable 
in  the  wise  administration  of  God's  providence  ;  and  yet  how  strik- 
ing it  is  that  our  divine  Master  died  at  the  age  of  thirty- three  !  I 
have  often  thought  that  if  one  knowing  nothing  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment beforehand,  had  prepared  himself  to  believe  what  he 
learned  in  the  Scriptures  of  Christ  in  the  earlier  chapters  of  the 
evangelists,  what  would  be  his  impression  concerning  the  con- 
tinued life  on  earth  of  our  God,  Jesus  Christ  ?  Would  he  not  say 
to  himself  :  Here  is  one  coming  to  the  world  who  has  been  pre- 
dicted for  centuries,  in  the  splendor  of  whose  foreseen  presence 
every  part  of  the  ritual  has  glowed  with  a  new  beauty  and  glory, 
whom  the  prophet  and  king  have  alike  been  predicting  in  their 
office  as  well  as  in  their  words,  who  is  coming  into  the  world  by 
the  miracle  of  incarnation,  and  the  world  is  to  be  hushed  into 
peace,  in  order  that  His  coming  may  be  in  the  fitness  and  fulness 
of  time  ?  He  is  coming  to  regenerate  life  and  bring  in  at  last  the 
fulness  of  the  Gentiles,  to  bring  the  glory  of  the  millennial  peace 
and  millennial  holiness  everywhere  over  the  earth.  His  life  then 
will  be  protracted  for  centuries  till  at  last  the  most  eminent,  most 
holy,  the  most  powerful,  may  have  preceded  Him,  and  it  will  only 
be  after  centuries  of  divine  instruction  and  divine  work  that  He — ■ 


EXTRACTS  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  283 

this  transcendent  person,  so  long  prophesied — shall  ascend  in 
triumph  through  the  skies  which  were  brightened  at  His  coming — 
into  the  heavens  which  He  left  to  save  the  world.  What  signifi- 
cance there  was  in  those  words  of  his  :  "I  have  finished  the  work 
that  Thou  gavest  me  to  do."  The  whole  plan  of  God  had  been 
completed  concerning  the  life  of  Christ  in  these  three  years  of 
ministry. — R.  S.  Storrs,  D.D. 


THOUGHTS   ON   DEATH. 

Give  me  no  guess  for  a  dying  pillow.  —  "Joseph  Cook  on  a  Second 
Probation. 

What  Belfrage  says  of  John  is  true  of  the  departure  of  every 
believer.  It  is  not  like  the  evening  star  sinking  into  the  darkness 
of  the  night,  but  like  the  morning  star,  lost  to  our  view  in  the 
brightness  of  day. 

Death  a  release. — It  will  be  like  the  breaking  of  a  chain,  the 
close  of  long  confinement,  and  the  opening  of  a  prison  door. 
"  Let  me  pass  out  !"  was  the  striking  utterance  of  a  dying  saint 
as  his  soul  fled,  like  an  imprisoned  bird,  away  from  an  opened 
cage. 

The  Thracians  wept  whenever  a  child  was  born,  and  feasted 
whenever  a  man  went  out  of  the  world  ;  and  with  reason. 
Death  opens  the  gate  of  fame  and  shuts  the  gate  of  envy  after  it  ; 
it  unlooses  the  chain  of  the  captive  and  puts  the  bondsman's  task 
into  another  man's  hand. — Sterne. 

Gordon,  once  a  celebrated  driver  on  the  Pacific  coast,  was 
not  less  known  for  his  profaneness  than  for  his  skill  in  driving. 
His  end  was  dreadful.  In  the  delirium  of  death  he  thrust  out 
his  feet  and  clutched  at  the  bedclothes.  When  asked  the  cause 
of  his  trouble,  he  replied,  "  Oh,  I'm  going  down  a  terrible  grade 
and  can't  find  the  brake  !" 

Death  touches  only  the  body. — In  proportion  as  the  body  falls 
into  ruin,  the  spirit  becomes  disengaged  ;  like  a  pure  and  brilliant 
flame,  which  ascends  and  shines  forth  with  additional  splendor  in 
proportion  as  it  disengages  itself  from  the  remains  of  matter  which 


PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 


held  it  down,  and  as  the  substance  to  which  it  was  attached  is 
consumed  and  dissipated.  — Massillon. 

Spiritually  dead. — We  see  the  crape  fluttering  at  the  door,  here 
and  there,  as  we  walk  the  streets.  Somebody  is  dead  !  Had  we 
eyes  like  God,  we  should  see  other  dead  amid  the  living — beneath 
the  guise  of  dress,  of  rosy  health,  of  ample  wealth,  of  high  posi- 
tion, as  well  as  under  humbler  forms  of  concealment.  Dead  in 
trespasses  and  sins,  as  really  insensible  to  the  higher  verities  of  life 
as  is  the  sheeted  corpse  to  its  daily  actualities. 

Death  seizeth  upon  an  old  man,  and  lies  in  wait  for  the 
youngest.  Death  is  oftentimes  as  near  to  the  young  man's  back 
as  it  is  to  the  old  man's  face.  It  is  told  of  Charles  the  Fourth, 
King  of  France,  that,  being  one  time  affected  with  the  sense  of  his 
many  and  great  sins,  he  fetched  a  deep  sigh,  and  said  to  his  wife, 
"  By. the  help  of  God,  I  will  now  so  carry  myself  all  my  life  long 
that  I  will  never  offend  Him  more,"  which  word  he  had  no 
sooner  uttered,  but  he  fell  down  and  died. — Thomas  Brooks. 

Doctor  Gordon,  a  gentleman  of  culture,  when  dying  in  the 
prime  of  life  and  surrounded  with  comforts  and  joys,  said, 
"  Death  !  I  see  no  death  at  my  bedside.  I  would  not  have  a 
fear.  Christ,  not  death,  is  about  to  take  me  from  earth  !  There 
is  no  death  to  the  Christian.  The  glorious  Gospel  takes  away 
death."  That  which  separates  the  Christian  from  Christ  is  not 
distance,  but  the  veil  of  the  flesh,  and  therefore  the  moment  that 
is  laid  aside  the  Christian  is  with  his  Lord.  There  is  no  middle 
passage  of  horrors  between  the  two.  —  W.  M.  Taylor. 

Every  day  travels  toward  death,  but  only  the  last  one  arrives 
at  it.  To  him  that  told  Socrates,  "  The  thirty  tyrants  have  sen- 
tenced thee  to  death,"  he  said  :  "  And  nature  has  sentenced 
them."  Your  death  is  a  part  of  the  order  of  the  universe,  a  part 
of  the  life  of  the  world.      Lucretius  says  : 

"  Mortals  among  themselves  by  turns  do  live, 
And  life's  bright  torch  to  the  next  runner  give," 

alluding  to  the  Athenian  games,  wherein  those  that  ran  a  race 
carried  torches  in  their  hands,  and,  the  race  being  done,  delivered 
them  into  the  hands  of  those  who  were  to  run  next. — Montaigne. 


EXTRACTS  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  285 

"  'And  He  took  clay  and  anointed  his  eyes.'  That  is  just 
what  Death  does  with  us.  Many  people  are  afraid  of  the  doctor, 
and  the  more  clever  the  doctor,  the  more  apt  to  be  rough  and 
quick.  Old  Doctor  Death  is  a  wonderful  doctor.  He  wraps  us 
up  in  clay  and  heals  us.  We  go  in  at  the  back  door  of  the 
doctor's  house,  and  come  out  at  the  front.  We  go  in  blind,  and 
come  out  gazing  on  golden  streets  and  heavenly  mansions  ;  we 
go  in  deaf,  and  we  come  out  with  ears  unstopped  and  hearing 
softest  celestial  sounds  ;  we  go  in  mute,  and  we  come  out  with 
tongues  unloosed  to  join  in  angelic  songs  ;  we  go  in  halt,  out  of 
breath,  decrepit,  and  we  come  out  strong,  to  '  run  up  with  joy 
the  shining  way.' 

An  Alpine  traveller  and  his  guide,  while  crossing  a  glacier,  were 
precipitated  into  a  crevasse,  whence  no  human  power  could  rescue 
them.  At  last  a  rivulet  was  found  that  pierced  the  mountain  of 
ice,  which  they  followed  into  a  dark,  cold  and  ever-narrowing 
passage,  that  finally  ended  in  the  roaring  gulf  of  a  sub-glacial 
river.  To  plunge  into  its  gloom  and  whirl  seemed  to  be  a  leap 
into  the  jaws  of  death,  but  there  was  no  other  alternative.  The 
guide  made  the  plunge,  crying,  "  Follow  me."  They  were 
tossed  about  in  the  icy  waters,  and  deafened  by  its  roar,  but  in  a 
few  moments  were  swept  out  into  the  summer  air  and  green  vale 
of  Chamouni.  So  Jesus  has  passed  through  the  sullen  stream  of 
death  ;  and  with  Him  we  need  fear  no  evil,  but  shall  find  our- 
selves safely  conducted  to  the  summer  land  beyond. 

Death  cannot  separate  from  the  love  of  God.  Death  does  not 
change  the  spirit,  it  only  liberates  it.  We  go  with  a  friend  up  to 
the  last  moment  on  earth.  We  see  the  mind  still  active,  the 
memory  clear,  the  noble  impulses  of  the  soul  still  predominant. 
Do  you  suppose  that  he  who  wrought  the  gem  into  forms  of 
beauty  has  ceased  while  the  gem  still  delights  the  eye  ?  That  he 
who  built  the  cathedral  is  ended  while  the  work  of  his  hand  calls 
forth  the  admiration  of  mankind  ?  We  have  the  assurance  in  the 
words  of  Christ,  in  the  resurrection  of  Christ,  that  death  does  not 
destroy  the  soul.  Rather  it  sets  the  soul  free  from  the  lassitude 
and  inactiveness  of  the  body.  The  body  hampers  and  manacles 
the  soul.  Now,  can  you  conceive  that  death,  which  so  adds  to 
the  spirit,  can  separate  from  the  love  of  God  ?     Death  does  not 


286  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

affect  our  love  for  our  departed  friends,  save  to  augment  it.  How 
much  more  will  it  but  augment  the  love  of  God  !  No,  says  the 
apostle,  and  our  conscious  and  sentient  being  responds,  Death 
cannot  separate  from  the  love  of  God. — R.  S.  Storrs. 

Oh  !  what  an  ado  about  dying  !  We  become  so  attached  to  the 
malarial  marsh  in  which  we  live  that  we  are  afraid  to  go  up  and 
live  on  the  hill-top.  We  are  alarmed  because  vacation  is  coming. 
Eternal  sunlight,  and  best  programme  of  celestial  minstrels,  and 
hallelujah,  no  inducement  !  Let  us  stay  here  and  keep  cold  and 
ignorant  and  weak.  Keep  our  feet  on  the  sharp  cobblestones  of 
earth  instead  of  planting  them  on  the  bank  of  the  amaranth  in 
heaven.  Give  us  this  small  island  of  a  leprous  world  instead  of 
the  immensities  of  splendor  and  delight.  Keep  our  hands  full  of 
nettles,  and  our  shoulder  under  the  burden,  and  our  neck  in  the 
yoke,  and  hopples  on  our  ankles,  and  handcuffs  on  our  wrists. 
' '  Dear  Lord, ' '  we  seem  to  say,  ' '  keep  us  down  here  where  we 
have  to  suffer,  instead  of  letting  us  up  where  we  might  live  and 
reign  and  rejoice."  lam  amazed  at  myself  and  at  yourself  for 
this  infatuation  under  which  we  all  rest.  Men,  you  would  sup- 
pose, would  get  frightened  at  having  to  stay  in  this  world  instead 
of  getting  frightened  at  having  to  go  toward  heaven. — Talmage. 

What  have  you  proved  about  death  ? — What  then  is  the  case  you 
have  made  out  ?  You  have  made  out  just  this  :  that  death  allows 
us  to  have  a  perfect  body,  free  of  all  aches,  united  forever  with  a 
perfect  soul  free  from  all  sin.  Correct  your  theology.  I  demand 
that  you  correct  your  theology  ;  and  when  you  see  a  new  gray 
hair  in  your  head  thank  God,  and  when  you  see  another  wrinkle 
on  your  cheek  thank  God,  and  when  you  feel  another  physical 
infirmity  thank  God,  and  when  another  year  has  passed  thank 
God.  What  does  it  all  mean  ?  Why,  it  means  that  moving-day 
is  coming,  and  that  you  are  going  to  quit  cramped  apartments  and 
be  mansioned  forever.  The  horse  that  stands  at  the  gate  will  not 
be  the  one  lathered  and  bespattered,  carrying  bad  news  ;  but  it  will 
be  the  horse  that  St.  John  saw  in  Apocalyptic  vision — the  white 
horse  on  which  the  King  comes  to  the  banquet.  The  ground 
around  the  palace  will  quake  with  the  tires  and  hoofs  of  celestial 
equipage,  and  those  Christians  who  in  this  world  lost  their  friends, 


EXTRACTS  AND   ILLUSTRATIONS.  287 

and  lost  their  property,  and  lost  their  health,  and  lost  their  life, 
will  find  out  that  God  was  always  kind.  —Talmage. 

A  delicate  child,  pale  and  prematurely  wise,  was  complaining 
on  a  hot  morning  that  the  poor  dewdrop  had  been  too  hastily 
snatched  away  and  not  allowed  to  glitter  on  the  flowers  like  other 
happier  dewdrops,  that  live  the  whole  night  through  and  sparkle 
in  the  moonlight  and  through  the  morning  onward  to  noonday. 
"  The  sun,"  said  the  child,  "  has  chased  them  away  with  his  heat, 
or  swallowed  them  in  his  wrath."  Soon  after  came  rain  and  a 
rainbow,  whereupon  his  father  pointed  upward.  "  See,"  said  he, 
"  there  stand  thy  dewdrops  gloriously  reset — a  glittering  jewelry 
—  in  the  heavens  ;  and  the  clownish  foot  tramples  on  them  no 
more.  By  this,  my  child,  thou  art  taught  that  what  withers  upon 
earth  blooms  again  in  heaven."  Thus  the  father  spoke,  and 
knew  not  that  he  spoke  prefiguring  words  ;  for  soon  after  the 
delicate  child,  with  the  morning  brightness  of  his  early  wisdom, 
was  exhaled  like  a  dewdrop  into  heaven. — Richler. 

Make  the  best  of  life's  finality.  Now,  you  think,  I  have  a  very 
tough  subject.  You  do  not  see  how  I  am  to  strike  a  spark  of 
light  out  of  the  flint  of  the  tombstone.  There  are  many  people 
who  have  an  idea  that  death  is  the  submergence  of  everything 
pleasant  by  everything  doleful.  If  my  subject  could  close  in  the 
upsetting  of  all  such  preconceived  notions,  it  would  close  well. 
Who  can  judge  best  of  the  features  of  a  man — those  who  are  close 
by  him,  or  those  who  are  far  off  ?  "  Oh  !"  you  say,  "  those  can 
judge  best  of  the  features  of  a  man  who  are  close  by  him. "  Now, 
my  friends,  who  shall  judge  of  the  features  of  death — whether  they 
are  lovely  or  whether  they  are  repulsive  ?  You  ?  You  are  too  far 
off.  If  I  want  to  get  a  judgment  as  to  what  really  the  features  of 
death  are,  I  will  not  ask  you  ;  I  will  ask  those  who  have  been 
within  a  month  of  death,  or  a  week  of  death,  or  an  hour  of  death, 
or  a  minute  of  death.  They  stand  so  near  the  features  they  can 
tell.  They  give  unanimous  testimony,  if  they  are  Christian  peo- 
ple, that  death,  instead  of  being  demoniac,  is  cherubic.  Of  all 
the  thousands  of  Christians  who  have  been  carried  through  the 
gates  of  Greenwood,  gather  up  their  dying  experiences  and  you 
will  find  they  nearly  all  bordered  on  a,  jubilate.  How  often  you 
have  seen  a  dying  man  join  in  the  psalm  being  sung  around  his 


288  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

bedside,  the  middle  of  the  verse  opening  to  let  his  ransomed  spirit 
free  !  Long  after  the  lips  could  not  speak,  looking  and  pointing 
upward  !  Some  of  you  talk  as  though  God  has  exhausted  Himself 
in  building  this  world,  and  that  all  the  rich  curtains  He  ever  made 
He  hung  around  this  planet,  and  all  the  flowers  He  ever  grew  He 
has  woven  into  the  carpet  of  our  daisied  meadows.  No.  This 
world  is  not  the  best  thing  God  can  do.  This  world  is  not  the 
best  thing  that  God  has  done. — Talmage. 

At  the  very  instant  of  our  soul's  separation  from  the  body,  death 
seems  to  have  a  great  advantage  upon  us  ;  but  when  I  consider 
all,  I  find  it  has  no  cause  to  boast  of  the  victory.  When  a  valiant 
captain  marches  out  of  a  town  almost  destroyed,  to  another  more 
secure  and  better  fortified,  with  his  weapons  in  his  hand,  we  say 
that  he  has  quitted  his  station,  not  that  he  is  overcome.  Thus, 
when  the  wretched  body  decays,  and  our  souls  depart,  well  armed 
with  faith  and  hope,  to  lodge  in  a  more  secure  place  in  the  highest 
heavens,  nobody  can  say,  to  speak  properly,  that  we  have  been 
overcome.  As  it  happens  to  such  as  sail  on  the  ocean,  when  a 
violent  storm  threatens  them  with  shipwreck,  they  think  themselves 
very  happy  if  they  can  quit  the  vessel,  leave  it  to  the  mercy  of  the 
winds  and  waves,  and  escape  to  land  with  their  riches  and  lives 
safe  :  thus  it  is  with  us  who  sail  upon  the  tempestuous  sea  of  this 
world  ;  when  death  raises  its  most  cruel  storms,  we  think  ourselves 
happy  if  we  can  leave  this  miserable  body,  which  seems  as  a  ship 
to  our  souls,  and  if  we  can  secure  our  spiritual  life  and  our  heav- 
enly riches.  Therefore  we  may  justly  say  to  the  faithful,  that  are 
frightened  when  they  see  death  threatening  to  drown  them  in  its 
depths,  as  St.  Paul  to  the  ship's  company,  who  trembled  for  fear 
at  the  sight  of  roaring  and  swelling  waves,  "  Take  good  courage, 
my  brethren,  for  I  assure  you,  in  the  name  of  the  living  God,  that 
your  lives  are  secure,  and  that  you  shall  lose  nothing  but  this 
ship. ' '  We  may  furnish  them  with  stronger  comforts  ;  for  these 
good  mariners  lost  their  ship  without  hopes  of  recovering  it  again, 
but  we  are  assured  that  God  will  one  day  gather  up  every  piece  of 
the  broken  vessels  of  our  bodies,  and  will  join  them  together  in  a 
more  perfect  estate. — Drclincourt. 


EXTRACTS  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  289 

THOUGHTS   ON   HEAVEN. 

The  melody  of  evening  bells  has  been  heard  under  rare  circum- 
stances, it  is  said,  a  hundred  miles  at  sea  by  those  who  put  their 
ears  in  the  focus  of  the  mainsail,  which  gathered  and  condensed 
the  sound.  So,  in  some  supreme  moment,  under  specially  favor- 
able circumstances,  the  Christian  voyager  toward  heaven  seems  to 
hear  the  ringing  of  heavenly  bells  wafted  from  his  home  within 
the  vale. 

"  I  am  going  to  see  Jesus,"  said  a  dying  negro  boy  ;  "  I  am 
going  to  see  Jesus."  And  the  missionary  said,  "You  are  sure 
you  will  see  Him?"  "Oh,  yes,  that's  what  I  want  to  go  to 
heaven  for."  "But,"  said  the  missionary,  "suppose  Jesus 
should  go  away  from  heaven  ;  what  then?"  "  I  should  follow 
Him,"  said  the  boy.  "But  if  Jesus  went  down  to  hell  ;  what 
then  ?"  He  thought  for  a  moment,  and  then  he  said  :  "  Massa, 
where  Jesus  is  there  can  be  no  hell  !"  Oh,  to  stand  in  His  pres- 
ence !     That  will  be  heaven  ! — Tahnage. 

In  this  world,  we  only  meet  to  part.  It  is  good-by,  good-by  ; 
farewells  floating  in  the  air.  We  hear  it  at  the  rail-car  window 
and  at  the  steamboat  wharf— good-by.  Children  lisp  it  and  old 
age  answers  it.  Sometimes  we  say  it  in  a  light  way — good-by  ; 
and  sometimes  with  anguish  in  which  the  soul  breaks  down — 
good-by  I  Ah,  that  is  the  word  that  ends  the  thanksgiving  ban- 
quet ;  that  is  the  word  that  comes  in  to  close  the  Christmas  chant 
— good-by,  good-by.  But  not  so  in  heaven.  Welcomes  in  the 
air  ;  welcomes  at  the  gates  ;  welcomes  at  the  house  of  many  man- 
sions, but  no  good-by.  — Talmage. 

What  a  place  that  must  be  which  Christ  prepares  !  It  must  be 
a  place  where  every  purified  desire  of  the  heart  shall  have  perpetual 
satisfaction.  The  inner  soul  longs  for  happiness  ;  it  is  only  the 
outward  and  changeable  sense  that  would  dictate  its  form.  That 
it  is  a  pure  and  holy  place  and  that  it  has  Christ  in  it,  is  enough. 
We  know  the  delicious  contents  of  the  vessel,  if  we  do  not  know 
the  shape  and  color  of  the  vessel.  What  a  comfort  and  joy  the 
thought,  that  Christ  is  preparing  our  place  !  God's  consolations 
are  not  like  men's,  mere  soothers  of  a  troubled  mind  ;  but  seeds  of 


290  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

positive  and  independent  joy.  God's  grace  comes  with  a  set-off 
that  belittles  the  earthly  care  and  sorrow.  If  a  soldier  in  the  ranks 
is  wounded,  it  is  one  thing  to  apply  soothing  cataplasms  to  stay 
the  pain  ;  but  it  is  a  grander  thing  and  a  better  thing  for  his  gen- 
eral to  come  to  him  and  bestow  upon  him  the  title,  rank,  and  in- 
signia of  a  high  officer.  "  To  depart"  is  "to  be  with  Christ ;" 
this  is  the  l '  far  better' '  of  the  Apostle.  Again,  some  may  say, 
Do  the  departed  ones  know  of  and  take  an  interest  in  what  takes 
place  in  this  world  ?  Angels  know  of  and  take  an  interest  in  the 
affairs  of  men,  being  ministering  spirits,  why  not  then  the  saints  ? 
Agassiz,  when  alive,  could  have  told  you  all  about  fishes,  birds,  or 
animals,  as  to  what  species  they  belonged.  By  seeing  the  fin  of 
one  fish  he  could  declare  its  tribe.  Types  determine  whole  struct- 
ures in  the  physical  world.  Taking  this  reasoning  along  with  us, 
in  Christ's  risen  body  we  find  that  we  know  all  that  we  need  know 
of  the  material,  spiritual  body,  and  of  heaven,  which  is  a  place 
and  no  myth.  We  arrive  first  at  the  state,  and  then  the  place.  I 
do  not,  cannot,  believe  those  mythical  theories  which  assert  that 
the  saints  are  to  inhabit  the  space  between  the  stars.  No,  I  believe 
that  heaven  is  a  place,  and  that  we  are  to  have  a  real,  material, 
spiritual  body,  like  to  the  risen  body  of  Jesus.  No  other  sugges- 
tion, however  cleverly  framed,  meets  the  wants  of  the  soul.  Our 
Lord  is  not  to-day  in  the  tombs  of  the  prophets. — -J.  A.  M.  Chap- 


THOUGHTS   ON  AFFLICTION. 

Think  not  because  you  suffer  that  you  are  not  chosen.  As 
Christ  was  made  perfect  in  His  work,  through  His  suffering,  so 
are  we  thus  to  be  led.  Jesus  takes  those  whom  He  loves  into 
Gethsemane,  and  further.  —  W.  M.  Taylor. 

The  mourner  may  always  count  on  the  sympathy  of  Jesus. 
Jesus  thought  not  of  Mary  and  Martha  alone.  There  sounded  in 
His  ears  the  dirge  of  the  ocean  of  human  misery.  The  weeping 
of  Mary  and  Martha  was  but  the  holding  of  the  shell  to  His  ears. 
That  tear  of  love  is  a  legacy  to  every  Christian.  —  W.  M.  Taylor. 

A  suffering  believer  once  remarked  to  a  friend  :  "  When  I  am 
very  low  and  dark  I  go  to  the  window,  and  if  I  see  a  heavy  cloud 


EXTRACTS  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  291 

I  think  of  those  precious  words,  '  A  cloud  received  Him  out  of 
their  sight,'  and  I  look  up  and  see  the  cloud  sure  enough,  and 
then  I  think — well,  that  may  be  the  cloud  that  hides  Him.  And 
so  you  see  there  is  comfort  in  a  cloud." 

It  is  said  that  gardeners  sometimes,  when  they  would  bring  a 
rose  to  richer  flowering,  deprive  it  for  a  season  of  light  and  moist- 
ure. Silent  and  dark  it  stands,  dropping  one  faded  leaf  after 
another,  and  seeming  to  go  down  patiently  to  death.  But  when 
every  leaf  is  dropped,  and  the  plant  stands  stripped  to  the  utter- 
most, a  new  life  is  even  then  working  in  the  buds,  from  which 
shall  spring  a  tender  foliage  and  a  brighter  wealth  of  flowers.  So, 
often,  in  celestial  gardening  every  leaf  of  earthly  joy  must  drop 
before  a  new  and  divine  bloom  visits  the  soul. — Mrs.  H.  B.  S/owe. 


PRAYERS. 


AT  THE  FUNERAL  OF  CORNELIUS  VANDERBILT. 

BY   C.    F.    DEEMS,    D.  D. ,  NEW  YORK. 

Almighty  and  Most  Merciful  God,  our  Heavenly  Father,  to 
whom  all  hearts  are  open  and  all  thoughts  are  known,  and  from 
whom  no  secrets  are  hid,  cleanse  Thou  the  thoughts  of  our  hearts 
with  the  inspiration  of  Thy  Holy  Spirit,  that  we  may  perfectly  love 
Thee,  and  worthily  magnify  Thy  excellent  name.  We  worship 
and  adore  Thee,  Maker  of  Heaven  and  Earth,  for  all  the  things 
Thou  hast  made  in  the  heavens  above  and  in  the  earth  beneath, 
and  in  the  waters  that  are  under  the  earth.  And  we  thank  Thee 
for  this  human  race,  of  which  we  are  parts,  that  Thou  hast  called 
into  existence  man,  and  hast  given  him  reason  and  remembrance 
and  imagination,  and  fear  and  love  and  hale.  We  thank  Thee 
that  Thou  hast  given  us  this  earth,  that  we  may  till  it  and  improve 
it,  and  make  it  to  be  the  garden  of  the  Lord.  And  we  thank 
Thee,  O  Father,  for  all  the  generations  of  men  that  have  come 
and  gone,  that  have  sown  and  planted,  and  reaped  and  replanted, 
and  made  for  us  such  harvests  of  civilization,  and  garnered  for  us 
such  results  of  culture.  We  thank  Thee  that  we  are  living  men, 
born  into  the  world,  with  capacities  for  indefinite  development  in 
this  world  and  in  the  world  to  come.  We  thank  Thee  that  we  are 
not  shut  up  here  forever,  but  having  been  trained  and  disciplined 
on  earth,  Thou  openest  unto  us  the  gates  of  the  second  birth  and 
the  second  life — the  life  that  is  everlasting. 

Above  all,  we  thank  Thee  for  Thine  inestimable  love  in  the  gift 
of  Thy  Son,  Jesus  Christ,  to  be  the  propitiation  for  our  sins  and 
for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world.  We  thank  Thee  that  He  has 
brought  life  and  immortality  to  light,  and  that  the  blood  of  Jesus 
Christ,  Thy  Son,  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin. 


PRA  YERS.  293 


And  now  we  thank  Thee,  Holy  Father,  for  those  who  have 
assisted  us  in  moral'  and  intellectual  development,  and  this  day 
especially  for  him,  Thy  servant,  whose  remains  we  are  about  to 
bury  forever  out  of  our  sight.  For  all  his  bodily  and  intellectual 
and  spiritual  endowments  ;  for  his  long  continuance  among  men  ; 
for  his  successful  efforts  to  raise  the  lowly,  to  strengthen  the  weak, 
to  enlarge  men's  ideas  of  their  own  capacities,  and  to  increase  the 
comforts  of  this  present  world,  we  thank  Thee,  good  Lord.  We 
thank  Thee,  too,  that  he  had  such  a  mother,  and  that  he  had  such 
influences  about  him  in  the  beginning  of  his  life  ;  that  during  all 
his  career  he  had  perfect  trust  in  Thy  Word,  as  coming  from  the 
King  Eternal,  Immortal,  Invisible,  the  only  wise  God — and  honor- 
ing his  father  and  his  mother,  so  that  his  days  were  long  in  the 
land  ;  and  that,  at  the  last,  after  his  weary  and  troubled  life,  like 
a  little  child,  according  to  the  word  of  his  Saviour,  he  laid  his 
head  at  the  feet  of  Christ,  and  being  so  humbled  by  himself,  was 
by  his  Lord  lifted  up  into  the  embrace  of  love  so  that  he  should 
die  on  the  bosom  of  Jesus.  And  now,  Father,  that  he  has  been 
taken  from  our  midst— he  who  has  been  the  guide  and  leader  of 
this  generation — he  who  has  been  so  strong  to  stand  and  so  bold 
to  go  forward — he  who  has  been  such  a  fortress  and  strong  tower 
to  so  many— now  that  Thou  hast  been  pleased  in  Thy  providence 
to  take  him  away,  grant  us  grace  to  lead  such  godly  and  righteous 
lives  that  we  may  be  able  to  carry  forward  such  plans  as  seemed 
his  purpose.  We  beseech  Thee  to  send  grace  and  divine  consola- 
tion to  these  bereaved  ones.  Bless  his  wife.  Thou  that  hast  put 
in  the  Holy  Scriptures  so  many  words  for  the  widow,  bless  her  ; 
and  now  that  the  strong  staff  has  been  stripped  out  of  her  hand, 
may  she  rest  upon  Him  who  has  been  her  guide  from  her  youth — 
her  divine  Saviour.  Bless  these,  his  children.  Grant  unto  them 
grace  to  feel  the  immense  responsibility  of  inheriting  the  fame  of 
their  father,  and  grant  unto  them  grace  so  to  love  one  another,  so 
to  cleave  together,  so  to  co-operate,  that  the  blessing  of  God  may 
be  invoked  day  by  day  upon  their  family  relations  and  all  the 
public  interests  in  which  they  are  involved.  We  pray  for  them 
who  for  years  have  shared  his  bounty,  and  now  shall  see  his  face 
no  more,  for  the  lowly,  for  the  broken,  for  the  weak  to  whom  he 
showed  such  kindness  in  secret.  God  bless  them  and  comfort 
them,  and  make  them  feel  that  there  is  a  stronger  arm  than  is  in 


294  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

man.  Bless  those  who  soothed  him  in  his  last  hours — these  faith- 
ful nurses,  these  devoted  friends,  these  skilful  physicians,  and 
grant  that  at  the  judgment  of  the  last  day  the  divinest  lips  may  say 
to  them,  as  touching  him  that  hath  gone,  "  Even  as  ye  did  it 
unto  the  least  of  these,  ye  did  it  unto  me." 

And  while  we  pray  for  ourselves,  we  pray  also  for  those  who  in 
distant  places  are  lifting  unto  God  their  hearts  to-day  in  solemn 
worship  in  memory  of  this  great  life  and  this  great  death  ;  and 
especially  we  pray  Thee  to  bless  the  solemn  services  conducted  in 
the  university  that  bears  his  name,  that  the  Spirit  of  grace  may 
come  and  rest  upon  them,  and  that  the  young  men  who  shall  bow 
this  day  before  Thy  throne  in  the  church  there,  may  worship  God, 
and  may  go  forth  in  strength  to  carry  the  benefaction  of  Thy  de- 
ceased servant,  even  unto  the  ends  of  the  earth.  And  now,  God, 
be  merciful  to  us  and  bless  us,  and  cause  the  light  of  Thy  counte- 
nance to  shine  unto  us,  that  Thy  name  may  be  known  upon 
earth,  Thy  saving  health  among  all  nations. 


BEFORE  A  SERMON   ON    "THE   REST   OF   GOD." 

BY  REV.  HENRY  WARD  BEECHER,  BROOKLYN. 

We  are  in  the  midst  of  mortal  toils,  in  uncertainties,  in  strifes 
that  have  no  fruit  but  sorrow  ;  and  we  are  glad  to  believe  that 
there  is  a  world  where  all  things  do  move  in  harmony,  where  wis- 
dom is  perfect,  where  guidance  is  without  erring,  where  all  do 
help  all,  and  all  love  all  ;  where  the  lowest  and  the  least  are  great, 
and  the  greatest  bow  down  themselves  unto  the  least ;  where  Thou 
art,  O  Thou  eternal  and  helpful  God  ;  where,  without  warrings, 
without  shadow  of  turning,  without  slumber,  or  sleep,  or  weari- 
ness, Thou  dost  bear  up  the  mightiness  of  creation,  and  yet  hast 
time,  and  thought,  and  desire  for  love  toward  every  living  thing. 
The  circuit  of  Thy  being  is  further  than  our  thoughts  can  fly. 
We  wonder  at  Thy  justice,  at  Thy  love,  and  Thy  compassion, 
which  are  interpreted  to  us  by  no  experience  in  human  life.  Thy 
love  is  deeper  than  any  love  we  have  ever  known.  Thy  sense  of 
kindness,  wider  than  the  earth,  is  more  than  all  its  life.  Thou 
art  filled  with  sweetness  and  gentleness.     Thou  art  the  thunderer  ; 


PR  A  VERS.  295 


and  yet,  all  Thy  creatures  do  rejoice  in  the  goodness  of  the  un- 
storming  God,  unto  whose  land  of  rest  we  are  sending  pilgrims. 
They  who  brought  us  up,  they  who  taught  us  to  love  Thee,  they 
who  taught  our  knees  to  bow  in  prayer  and  our  lips  to  syllable  the 
words — they  are  chanting  before  the  throne  evermore  ;  not  accord- 
ing to  the  picture  that  our  mind  forms,  though  we  struggle  as  best 
we  may  on  an  undeveloped  sketch  ;  but  in  a  glory  without  name, 
and  with  a  power  transcending  human  thought  or  experience. 
They  rest  from  earthly  care,  and  from  all  sin  and  imperfection, 
and  rejoice  with  a  glory  that  it  hath  not  entered  into  the  heart  of 
man  to  conceive.  We  thank  Thee  for  their  rest.  We  thank 
Thee  for  the  service  that  they  rendered  us.  We  thank  Thee  that 
they  have  entered  into  the  nobler  service  of  the  sanctuary  above. 
There  are  many  of  our  companions  with  whom  we  have  taken 
sweet  counsel  upon  earth.  We  walked  hand  in  hand,  and  labored 
together.  They  have  gone  up,  while  we  yet  struggle  on,  doing 
imperfectly  the  few  things  that  we  are  minded  to  do  that  are  noble 
and  disinterested.  Enthralled  with  care,  we  drudge  on  in  this 
material  life  ;  but  they  have  heard  the  call,  and  gone  before.  We 
do  not  envy  them  ;  but  Lord,  grant  that  we  may  be  ready  to  fol- 
low whenever  Thou  comest  for  us. 

We  rejoice  that  the  little  pilgrims  are  safe.  No  storm  hath 
pursued  their  ship,  or  can,  in  the  land  on  whose  shore  breaks  no 
wave,  and  whose  air  is  distempered  by  no  winds  or  storms.  They 
rest  sweetly.  They  are  in  angel  charge,  nearest  to  God.  Thine 
own  elect  angels  are  their  guardians  ;  and  in  their  bosoms,  or  led 
by  their  hands,  they  do  rejoice,  not  forgetting  their  earthly  home, 
yet  wandering  in  the  beauty  and  joy  of  their  heavenly  home.    .    .    . 

We  pray  that  Thou  wouldst  grant  that  Thy  life  may  be  more 
and  more  perfectly  shown  in  our  lives.  May  we  walk  together  in 
the  hope  of  glory.  May  we  feel  that  we  are  not  of  this  world  ; 
that  while  our  feet  do  press  the  soil  here  our  heads  are  above  the 
cloud,  and  that  by  faith  we  walk  in  the  celestial  city.  So  we  be- 
seech Thee,  O  Lord  our  God,  when  at  last  all  temptation  is  over, 
all  suffering,  all  things  intended  for  our  education  having  been 
done,  we  may  not  be  afraid  to  depart.  May  we  believe  that  it  is 
better  to  be  with  Christ  than  to  live  on  earth.  May  that  silent 
voice  which  draws  men  away,  come  to  us  ;  and  may  love  cry 
"  The  warfare  is  accomplished  ;  come  up,  come  ;"  and  with  ex- 


296  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

ceeding  great  joy  we  will  throw  off  the  burden  of  this  mortal  life, 
and  depart  to  be  with  Christ,  which  is  better  than  life. 

And  to  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit,  forevermore,  we  will 
give  the  praise  of  our  salvation.     Amen. 


AT  THE    FUNERAL  OF   PRESIDENT   LINCOLN. 

BY  REV.    DR.    GREY,   CHAPLAIN  UNITED  STATES  SENATE. 

0,  Lord  God  of  Hosts,  behold  a  nation  prostrate  before  Thy 
throne,  clothed  in  sackcloth,  who  stand  around  all  that  now  re- 
mains of  our  illustrious  and  beloved  chief.  We  thank  Thee  that 
Thou  hast  given  to  us  such  a  patriot,  and  to  the  country  such  a 
ruler,  and  to  the  world  such  a  noble  specimen  of  manhood.  We 
bless  Thee  that  Thou  hast  raised  him  to  the  highest  position  of  trust 
and  power  in  the  nation  ;  and  that  Thou  hast  spared  him  so  long 
to  guide  and  direct  the  affairs  of  the  Government  in  its  hour  of  peril 
and  conflict.  We  trusted  it  would  be  he  who  should  deliver  Israel, 
that  he  would  have  been  retained  to  us  while  the  nation  was  pass- 
ing through  its  baptism  of  blood  ;  but  in  an  evil  hour,  in  an  un- 
expected moment,  when  joy  and  rejoicing  rilled  our  souls,  and 
was  thrilling  the  heart  of  the  nation,  he  fell.  O  God,  give  grace 
to  sustain  us  under  this  dark  and  mysterious  providence  !  Help 
us  to  look  up  unto  Thee  and  say,  Not  our  will  but  Thine,  O 
God,  be  done.  We  commend  to  Thy  merciful  regard  and  tender 
compassion  the  afflicted  family  of  the  deceased.  Thou  seest  how 
their  hearts  are  stricken  with  sorrow  and  wrung  with  agony.  O, 
help  them,  as  they  are  now  passing  through  the  dark  valley  and 
shadow  of  death,  to  fear  no  evil,  but  to  lean  upon  Thy  rod  and 
staff  for  support.  O,  help  them  to  cast  their  burden  upon  the 
great  Burden -bearer,  and  find  relief.  Help  them  to  look  beyond 
human  agencies  and  human  means,  and  recognize  Thy  hand,  O 
God,  in  this  providence,  and  say  :  It  is  the  Lord  ;  let  Him  do 
what  seemeth  good  in  His  sight ;  and  as  they  proceed  slowly  and 
sadly  on  their  way  with  the  remains  of  a  husband  and  father,  to 
consign  them  to  their  last  resting-place,  may  they  look  beyond 
the  grave  to  the  morning  of  resurrection,  when  that  which  they 
now  sow  in  weakness  shall  be  raised  in  strength  ;  what  they  now 


PR  A  YERS. 


297 


sow  a  mortal  body  shall  be  raised  a  spiritual  body  ;  what  they  now 
sow  in  corruption  shall  be  raised  in  incorruption,  and  shall  be 
fashioned  like  unto  Christ's  most  glorious  body.  O  God  of  the 
bereaved,  comfort  and  sustain  this  mourning  family.  Bless  the 
new  Chief  Magistrate.  Let  the  mantle  of  his  predecessor  fall  upon 
him.  Bless  the  Secretary  of  State  and  his  family.  O  God,  if 
possible,  according  to  Thy  will,  spare  their  lives,  that  they  may 
render  still  important  service  to  the  country.  Bless  all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Cabinet.  Endow  them  with  wisdom  from  above. 
Bless  the  commanders  of  our  army  and  navy,  and  all  the  brave 
defenders  of  the  country,  and  give  them  continued  success.  Bless 
the  ambassadors  from  foreign  courts,  and  give  us  peace  with  the 
nations  of  the  earth.  O  God,  let  treason,  that  has  deluged  our 
land  with  blood,  and  devastated  our  country,  and  bereaved  our 
homes,  and  filled  them  with  widows  and  orphans,  and  has  at 
length  culminated  in  the  assassination  of  the  nation's  chosen  ruler 
— God  of  justice,  and  Avenger  of  the  nation's  wrong,  let  the  work 
of  treason  cease,  and  let  the  guilty  author  of  this  horrible  crime  be 
arrested  and  brought  to  justice.  O,  hear  the  cry  and  the  prayer 
and  the  tears  now  arising  from  a  nation's  crushed  and  smitten 
heart,  and  deliver  us  from  the  power  of  all  our  enemies,  and  send 
speedy  peace  unto  all  of  our  borders,  through  Jesus  Christ,  our 
Lord.     Amen. 


TEXTS  FOR  FUNERAL  DISCOURSES. 


1.  Death  in  the  prime  of  life. 

Gen.  xi.  28. — And  Haran  died  before  his  father  Terah. 

Job  xxi.  23. — One  dieth  in  his  full  strength. 

Jer.  xv.  9. — Her  sun  is  gone  down  while  it  was  yet  day. 

Jer.  xlviii.  17. — All  ye  that  are  about  him  bemoan  him  ;  and 
all  ye  that  know  his  name,  say,  How  is  the  strong  staff  broken 
and  the  beautiful  rod. 

Hosea  xiii.  15. — Though  he  be  fruitful  among  his  brethren,  an 
east  wind  shall  come,  the  wind  of  the  Lord  shall  come  up  from 
the  wilderness,  and  his  spring  shall  become  dry,  and  his  fountain 
shall  be  dried  up. 

Amos  viii.  9. — I  will  cause  the  sun  to  go  down  at  noon. 

Luke  xiv.  30. — This  man  began  to  build,  and  was  not  able  to 
finish. 

2.  Death  of  an  ohscnre  worker. 

Ruth  ii.  17. — So  she  gleaned  in  the  field  until  even. 

Eccl.  vii.  1. — A  good  name  is  better  than  precious  ointment ; 
and  the  day  of  death  than  the  day  of  one's  birth. 

Matt.  vii.  20. — By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them. 

Matt.  x.  29. — Are  not  two  sparrows  sold  for  a  farthing  ?   and 
not  one  of  them  shall  fall  on  the  ground  without  your  Father  : 
tbut  the  very  hairs  of  your  head  are  all  numbered. 

Matt.  x.  39. — He  that  loseth  his  life  for  my  sake,  shall  find  it. 

Matt.  xi.  28. — Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy- 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest. 


TEXTS  FOR  FUNERAL  DISCOURSES.  299 

Matt.  xxv.  15. — Unto  one  he  gave  five  talents,  to  another  two 
to  another  one. 

Matt.  xxv.  21. — Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant  :  thou 
hast  been  faithful  over  a  few  things,  I  will  set  thee  over  many 
things  :  enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord. 

Rev.  iii.  1. — I  know  thy  works,  that  thou  hast  a  name  that  thou 
livest,  and  art  dead. 

3.  Death  of  a  parent. 

Gen.  xxxv.  18. — And  it  came  to  pass,  as  her  soul  was  in  depart- 
ing (for  she  died),  that  she  called  his  name  Ren-oni. 

Num.  xx.  26. — And  strip  Aaron  of  his  garments,  and  put  them 
upon  Eleazar  his  son  :  and  Aaron  shall  be  gathered  unto  his  peo- 
ple, and  shall  die  there. 

Ps.  xxvii.  10. — When  my  father  and  my  mother  forsake  me, 
then  the  Lord  will  take  me  up. 

Ps.  xxxv.  14. — I  bowed  down  heavily,  as  one  that  mourneth 
for  his  mother. 

Ps.  lxviii.  5. — A  father  of  the  fatherless  ...  is  God  in  his 
holy  habitation. 

Prov.  xiii.  22. — A  good  man  leaveth  an  inheritance  to  his  chil- 
dren's children. 

Prov.  xx.  7. — The  just  man  walketh  in  his  integrity  ;  his  chil- 
dren are  blessed  after  him. 

Prov.  xxxi.  28.  —  Her  children  arise  up  and  call  her  blessed  ; 
her  husband  also,  and  he  praiseth  her. 

Jer.  xlix.  n. — Leave  thy  fatherless  children;  I  will  preserve 
them  alive. 

4.  Death  of  the  unrepentant. 

Deut.  xxxii.  31. — For  their  rock  is  not  as  our  Rock,  even  our 

enemies  themselves  being  judges. 

2  Sam.  iii.  ^ — Died  Abner  as  a  fool  dieth  ? 
Job  iv.  21. — They  die,  even  without  wisdom. 


300  '         PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

Job  x.  21,  22. — Before  I  go  whence  I  shall  not  return,  even  to 
the  land  of  darkness  and  the  shadow  of  death  ;  a  land  of  dark- 
ness, as  darkness  itself ;  and  of  the  shadow  of  death,  without  any 
order,  and  where  the  light  is  as  darkness. 

Job  xv.  23. — He  knoweth  that  the  day  of  darkness  is  ready  at 
his  hand. 

Job  xxi.  17. — How  oft  is  the  candle  of  the  wicked  put  out! 
and  how  oft  cometh  their  destruction  upon  them  ! 

Ps.  xviii.  31. — Who  is  a  rock  save  our  God  ? 

Prov.  i.  25-26. — But  ye  have  set  at  nought  all  my  counsel,  and 
would  none  of  my  reproof  :  I  also  will  laugh  at  your  calamity  ;  I 
will  mock  when  your  fear  cometh. 

Matt.  xvi.  26. — For  what  shall  a  man  be  profited,  if  he  shall 
gain  the  whole  world  and  forfeit  his  life  ? 

Matt.  xxv.  10. — And  while  they  went  away  to  buy,  the  bride- 
groom came. 

Luke  xii.  20. — Thou  foolish  one,  this  night  is  thy  soul  required 
of  thee  ;  and  the  things  which  thou  hast  prepared,  whose  shall 
they  be  ?  ■ 

John  viii.  21. — Ye  shall  seek  me  and  shall  die  in  your  sin. 

John  xii.  25. — He  that  loveth  his  life  loseth  it. 

Rom.  vi.  23. — For  the  wages  of  sin  is  death. 

Gal.  vi.  7.  — Whatsoever  a  man  soweth  that  shall  he  also  reap. 

1  John  v.  12. — He  that  hath  the  Son  hath  the  life  ;  he  that  hath 
not  the  Son  of  God,  hath  not  the  life. 

5.  End  of  an  unhappy  life. 

Josh.  xiii.  33. — The  Lord  God  of  Israel  was  their  inheritance. 

1  Kings  xvii.  12. — That  we  may  eat  it,  and  die. 

1  Kings  xix.  4. — And  he  requested  for  himself  that  he  might 
die  ;  and  said,  It  is  enough  ;  now,  O  Lord,  take  away  my  life. 

Job  iii.  22. — Which  j-ejoice  exceedingly  and  are  glad,  when  they 
can  find  the  grave. 


TEXTS  FOR   TUNER AL  DISCOURSES.  301 

Job  vii.  16. — I  would  not  live  alway. 

Eccl.  iv.  2.- — Wherefore  I  praised  the  dead  which  are  already 
dead,  more  than  the  living  which  are  yet  alive. 

Isa.  xxi.  11,  12. — Watchman,  what  of  the  night  ?  The  watch- 
man said,  The  morning  cometh. 

Dan.  xii.  13. — Go  thou  thy  way  till  the  end  be  ;  for  thou  shalt 
rest. 

Jonah  iv.  3. — O  Lord,  take,  I  beseech  thee,  my  life  from  me  ; 
for  it  is  better  for  me  to  die  than  to  live. 

Matt.  xi.  28. — Come  unto  Me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest. 

Rom.  viii.  18. — For  I  reckon  that  the  sufferings  of  this  present 
time  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  which  shall  be 
revealed  to  us-ward. 

Rev.  vi.  11. — And  it  was  said  unto  them  that  they  should  rest 
yet  for  a  little  time. 

Rev.  vii.  16. — They  shall  hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst  any 
more. 

Rev.  vii.  17. — And  God  shall  wipe  away  every  tear  from  their 
eyes. 

Rev.  xiv.  13. — That  they  may  rest  from  their  labors. 

Rev.  xxi.  4. — And  He  shall  wipe  away  every  tear  from  their 
eyes  ;  and  death  shall  be  no  more  ;  neither  shall  there  be  mourn- 
ing, nor  crying,  nor  pain  any  more. 

6.  Consolation  for  the  bereaved. 

Deut.  xxxiii.  27. — The  eternal  God  is  our  refuge,  and  under- 
neath are  the  everlasting  arms. 

Josh.  i.  5. — As  I  was  with  Moses,  so  I  will  be  with  thee  ;  I  will 
not  fail  thee  nor  forsake  thee. 

2  Sam.  xii.  23. — Can  I  bring  him  back  again  ?  I  shall  go  to 
him  but  he  shall  not  return  to  me. 

Ps.  lxviii.  5. — A  father  of  the  fatherless,  and  a  judge  of  the 
widows,  is  God  in.  His  holy  habitation. 


302  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

Job  xxxvii.  21. — And  now  men  see  not  the  bright  light  which  is 
in  the  clouds. 

Jer.  xlix.  n. — Leave  thy  fatherless  children,  I  will  preserve 
them  alive  ;  and  let  thy  widows  trust  in  Me. 

Lam.  i.  12. — Behold,  and  see  if  there  be  any  sorrow  like  unto 
my  sorrow. 

Ezek.  xiv.  23. — And  ye  shall  know  that  I  have  not  done  with- 
out cause  all  that  I  have  done  in  it,  saith  the  Lord  God. 

Amos  v.  8. — Seek  Him  that  .  .  .  turneth  the  shadow  of  death 
into  the  morning. 

Matt  v.  4. — Blessed  are  they  that  mourn. 

Matt.  xi.  28. — Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest. 

Mark  xvi.  3. — Who  shall  roll  us  away  the  stone  from  the  door 
of  the  tomb  ? 

Mark  xvi.  6. — He  is  risen  ;  He  is  not  here  ;  behold  the  place 
where  they  laid  Him. 

Luke  vii.  32. — And  when  the  Lord  saw  her  He  had  compassion 
on  her,  and  said  unto  her,  Weep  not. 

Luke  viii.  52. — She  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth. 

Luke  xxiii.  28. — Daughters  of  Jerusalem,  weep  not  for  me,  but 
weep  for  yourselves. 

Luke  xxiv.  5,  6. — Why  seek  ye  the  living  among  the  dead? 
He  is  not  here,  but  is  risen. 

John  xi.  13. — Thy  brother  shall  rise  again. 

John  xiii.  7. — What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now  ;  but  thou 
shalt  understand  hereafter. 

2  Cor.  iv.  18. — While  we  look  not  at  the  things  which  are  seen, 
but  at  the  things  which  are  not  seen  ;  for  the  things  which  are 
seen  are  temporal  ;  but  the  things  which  are  not  seen  are  eternal. 

1.  Thess.  iv.  13. — But  we  would  not  have  you  ignorant,  breth- 
ren, concerning  them  that  fall  asleep  ;  that  ye  sorrow  not,  even 
as  the  rest  which  have  no  hope. 


TEXTS  FOR  FUNERAL  DISCOURSES.  303 

7.  Sudden  or  accidental  death. 

Job  xv.  21. — In  prosperity  the  destroyer  shall  come  upon  him. 

Job  xxi.  13. — They  spend  their  days  in  wealth,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment go  down  to  the  grave. 

Job  xxxiv.  20.  — In  a  moment  shall  they  die,  and  the  people 
shall  be  troubled  at  midnight,  and  pass  away  :  and  the  mighty 
shall  be  taken  away  without  hand. 

Ps.  xxxix.  n. — Thou  makest  his  beauty  to  consume  away  like 
a  moth. 

Prov.  xxvii.  1. — Thou  knowest  not  what  a  day  may  bring  forth. 
Eccl.  ix.  12. — For  man  also  knoweth  not  his  time. 

Isa.  xvii.  14. — And  behold  at  eveninglide  trouble,  and  before 
the  morning  he  is  not. 

Ezek.  xxiv.  16. — Son  of  man,  behold,  I  take  away  from  thee 
the  desire  of  thine  eyes  with  a  stroke. 

Matt.  xxiv.  42. — Watch  therefore  :  for  ye  know  not  on  what 
day  your  Lord  cometh. 

Matt.  xxiv.  44. — Be  ye  also  ready  :  for  in  an  hour  that  ye  think 
not  the  Son  of  man  cometh. 

Matt.  xxv.  6. — But  at  midnight  there  is  a  cry,  Behold,  the 
bridegroom  !     Come  ye  forth  to  meet  him. 

Matt.  xxv.  13. — Watch  therefore  :  for  ye  know  not  the  day  nor 
the  hour. 

Mark  xiii.  29. — Know  ye  that  He  is  nigh,  even  at  the  doors. 

Mark  xiii.  ^.  — Take  ye  heed,  watch  and  pray  :  for  ye  know 
not  when  the  time  is. 

Mark  xiii.  35. — Watch  therefore  :  for  ye  know  not  when  the 
lord  of  the  house  cometh. 

Mark  xiii.  37. — And  what  I  say  unto  you  I  say  unto  all,  Watch. 

1  Thess.  v.  2. — The  day  of  the  Lord  so  cometh  as  a  thief  in 
the  night. 

1  Thess.  v.  6. — So  then  let  us  not  sleep,  as  do  the  rest ;  but  let 
us  watch  and  be  sober. 


304  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

James  iv.  14. — Whereas  ye  know  not  what  shall  be  on  the 
morrow. 

Rev.  iii.  3. — If  therefore  thou  shalt  not  watch,  I  shall  come  as  a 
thief,  and  thou  shalt  not  know  what  hour  I  shall  come  upon  thee. 

Rev.  xvi.  15. — Behold,  I  come  as  a  thief.  Blessed  is  he  that 
watcheth,  and  keepeth  his  garments,  lest  he  walk  naked,  and  they 
see  his  shame. 

8.  Death  of  a  young  man  or  woman. 

Judges  xi.  39,  40. — And  it  was  a  custom  in  Israel,  that  the 
daughters  of  Israel  went  yearly  to  lament  the  daughter  of  Jephthah. 

2  Sam.  i.  25. — O  Jonathan,  thou  wast  slain  in  thine  high 
places. 

2  Sam.  xviii.  33. — O  my  son  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son  Absa- 
lom !  would  God  I  had  died  for  thee,  O  Absalom,  my  son,  my 
son. 

1  Kings  xvii.  17. — The  son  of  the  woman,  the  mistress  of  the 
house,  fell  sick  ;  and  his  sickness  was  so  sore  that  no  breath  was 
left  in  him. 

1  Kings  xvii.  23. — And  Elijah  said,  See,  thy  son  liveth. 

Eccles.  xi.  9. — Rejoice,  O  young  man,  in  thy  youth  ;     . 
but  know  thou  that  for  all  these  things  God  will  bring  thee  into 
judgment. 

Eccles.  xii.  1. — Remember  now  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy 
youth. 

Jer.  vi.  26. — Make  thee  mourning  as  for  an  only  son,  most 
bitter  lamentation. 

Jer.  ix.  21. — For  death  is  come  up  into  our  windows,  and  is 
entered  into  our  palaces,  to  cut  off  the  children  from  without,  and 
the  young  men  from  the  streets. 

Jer.  x.  20. — My  tabernacle  is  spoiled  and  my  cords  are  broken  : 
my  children  are  gone  forth  of  me,  and  they  are  not  :  there  is  none 
to  stretch  forth  my  tent  any  more,  and  to  set  up  my  curtains. 

Jer.  xlviii.  17. — All  ye  that  are  about  him  bemoan  him  ;  and 


TEXTS  FOR  FUNERAL  DISCOURSES.  305 

all  ye  that  know  his  name,  say,  How  is  the  strong  staff  broken 
and  the  beautiful  rod  ! 

Amos  viii.  10. — I  will  make  it  as  the  mourning  of  an  only  son. 

Matt.  ix.  24. — The  damsel  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth. 

Luke  vii.  12. — Behold,  there  was  carried  out  one  that  was  dead, 
the  only  son  of  his  mother,  and  she  was  a  widow. 

Luke  vii.  14. — Young  man,  I  say  unto  thee,  Arise. 

Luke  viii.  52. — And  all  were  weeping,  and  bewailing  her  :  but 
he  said,  Weep  not ;  for  she  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth. 

John  xi.  24. — Thy  brother  shall  rise  again. 

9.  Death  of  an  aged  Christian . 

Gen.  v.  24. — And  Enoch  walked  with  God  :  and  he  was  not, 
for  God  took  him. 

Gen.  xv.  1 5.  — Thou  shalt  go  to  thy  fathers  in  peace  ;  thou  shalt 
be  buried  in  a  good  old  age. 

Gen.  xxiii.  2. — And  Sarah  died  .  .  .  and  Abraham  came 
to  mourn  for  Sarah  and  to  weep  for  her. 

Gen.  xxv.  8.  — Then  Abraham  gave  up  the  ghost,  and  died  in  a 
good  old  age,  an  old  man,  and  full  of  years,  and  was  gathered  to 
his  people. 

Gen.  xxvii.  2. — Behold  now  I  am  old,  I  know  not  the  day  of 
my  death. 

Gen.  xxxv.  29. — And  Isaac  gave  up  the  ghost,  and  died,  and 
was  gathered  unto  his  people,  being  old  and  full  of  days  ;  and  his 
sons  Esau  and  Jacob  buried  him. 

Gen.  xlvii.  9.  — Few  and  evil  have  the  days  of  the  years  of  my 
life  been. 

Gen.  xlviii.  21. — And  Israel  said  unto  Joseph,  Behold,  I  die  : 
but  God  shall  be  with  you. 

Gen.  xlix.  18. — I  have  waited  for  thy  salvation,  O  Lord. 

Gen.  xlix.  29. — And  he  charged  them,  and  said  unto  them,  I 
am  to  be  gathered  unto  my  people  :  bury  me  with  my  fathers. 


306  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

Gen.  xlix.  31. — There  they  buried  Abraham  and  Sarah  his 
wife  ;  there  they  buried  Isaac  and  Rebekah  his  wife  ;  and  there  I 
buried  Leah. 

Gen.  xlix.  ^3- — And  when  Jacob  had  made  an  end  of  com- 
manding his  sons,  he  .  yielded  up  the  ghost  and  was 
gathered  unto  his  people. 

Gen.  1.  24. — And  Joseph  said  unto  his  brethren,  I  die  :  and 
God  will  surely  visit  you  and  bring  you  out  of  this  land. 

Deut.  xxxiv.  7.  — And  Moses  was  an  hundred  and  twenty  years 
old  when  he  died  :  his  eye  was  not  dim  nor  his  natural  force  abated. 

Josh.  ix.  13. — And  these  bottles  of  wine,  which  we  filled,  were 
new  ;  and,  behold,  they  be  rent  :  and  these  our  garments  and 
our  shoes  are  become  old  by  reason  of  the  very  long  journey. 

Josh.  xiii.  1. — Now  Joshua  was  old  and  stricken  in  years. 

Job  v.  26. — Thou  shalt  come  to  thy  grave  in  a  full  age,  like  as 
a  shock  of  corn  cometh  in  in  his  season. 

Job  xi.  17. — Thine  age  shall  be  clearer  than  the  noonday. 

Ps.  xci.  16. — With  long  life  will  I  satisfy  him  and  show  him  my 
salvation. 

Prov.  iii.  2. — For  length  of  days,  and  long  life,  and  peace,  shall 
they  add  to  thee. 

Zech.  xiv.  7. — At  evening  time  it  shall  be  light. 

10.  Death  of  children. 

Gen.  xxii.  12. — For  now  I  know  that  thou  fearest  God,  seeing 
thou  hast  not  withheld  thy  son,  thine  only  son  from  me. 

Gen.  xxxvii.  30. — The  child  is  not. 

Gen.  xxxvii.  35. — And  all  his  sons  and  all  his  daughters  rose 
up  to  comfort  him  ;  but  he  refused  to  be  comforted,  and  he  said, 
For  I  will  go  down  into  the  grave  unto  my  son  mourning. 

1  Sam.  if  28. — Therefore  also  I  have  lent  him  to  the  Lord. 

1  Sam.  iii.  8. — And  Eli  perceived  that  the  Lord  had  called  the 
child. 


TEXTS  FOR  FUNERAL  DISCOURSES.  307 

2  Sam.  xii.  19. — David  said  unto  his  servants,  Is  the  child 
dead  ?     And  they  said,  He  is  dead. 

1  Kings  xiv.  13. — And  all  Israel  shall  mourn  for  him  and  bury 
him  .  .  .  because  in  him  there  is  found  some  good  thing 
toward  the  Lord  God  of  Israel. 

1  Kings  xiv.  17,  18. — When  she  came  to  the  threshold  of  the 
door  the  child  died  ;  and  they  buried  him  :  and  all  Israel 
mourned  for  him. 

2  Kings  iv.  20. — And  when  he  had  taken  him,  and  brought 
him  to  his  mother,  he  sat  on  her  knees  till  noon,  and  then  died. 

2  Kings  iv.  26.' — Is  it  well  with  the  child  ?  And  she  answered, 
It  is  well. 

2  Kings  iv.  31. — And  Gehazi  passed  on  before  them,  and  laid 
the  staff  upon  the  face  of  the  child  ;  but  there  was  neither  voice 
nor  hearing.  Wherefore  he  went  again  to  meet  him,  and  told 
him,  saying,  The  child  is  not  awaked. 

Job  i.  21. — The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away; 
blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord. 

Ps.  xcii.  13. — Those  that  be  planted  in  the  house  of  the  Lord 
shall  flourish  in  the  courts  of  our  God. 

Isa.  xi.  6. — And  a  little  child  shall  lead  them. 

Isa.  xl.  7. — The  grass  withereth,  the  flower  fadeth,  because  the 
spirit  of  the  Lord  bloweth  upon  it. 

Isa.  xl.  11. — He  shall  gather  the  lambs  with  His  arm,  and  carry 
them  in  His  bosom. 

Jer.  x.  20. — My  tabernacle  is  spoiled,  and  all  my  cords  are 
broken  :  my  children  are  gone  forth  of  me,  and  they  are  not  : 
there  is  none  to  stretch  forth  my  tent  any  more,  and  to  set  up  my 
curtains. 

Jer.  xxxi.  15. — A  voice  was  heard  in  Ramah,  lamentation  and 
bitter  weeping  ;  Rachel  weeping  for  her  children  refused  to  be 
comforted  for  her  children,  because  they  were  not. 

Mai.  iii.  17. — And  they  shall  be  mine,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts, 
in  that  day  when  I  make  up  my  jewels. 


308  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

Matt,  xviii.  10. — See  that  ye  despise  not  one  of  these  little 
ones  ;  for  I  say  unto  you,  that  in  heaven  their  angels  do  always 
behold  the  face  of  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven. 

Matt,  xviii.  14. — It  is  not  the  will  of  your  Father  which  is  in 
heaven  that  one  of  these  little  ones  should  perish. 

Matt.  xix.  14. — Suffer  the  little  children,  and  forbid  them  not, 
to  come  unto  me  :  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

11.  Death  of  a  prominent  person. 

Num.  xx.  28. — And  Aaron  died  there  in  the  top  of  the  mount. 

Num.  xx.  29. — .And  when  all  the  congregation  saw  that  Aaron 
was  dead,  they  mourned  for  Aaron  thirty  days. 

Num.  xxvii.  12,  13. — Get  thee  up  into  this  mount  Abariin,  and 
see  the  land  which  I  have  given  unto  the  children  of  Israel.  And 
when  thou  hast  seen  it,  thou  also  shalt  be  gathered  unto  thy 
people. 

Deut.  iii.  27, — Get  thee  up  into  the  top  of  Pisgah  and  lift  up 
thine  eyes  .  .  .  and  behold  it  with  thine  eyes  :  for  thou 
shalt  not  go  over  this  Jordan. 

Deut.  iv.  22. — But  I  must  die  in  this  land,  I  must  not  go  over 
Jordan  :  but  ye  shall  go  over,  and  possess  that  good  land. 

Deut.  xxxii.  49,  50. — Get  thee  up  into  this  mountain     . 
and  die. 

Deut.  xxxiv.  5. — So  Moses  the  servant  of  the  Lord  died  there 
in  the  land  of  Moab,  according  to  the  word  of  the  Lord. 

Josh.  xxiv.  29. — And  it  came  to  pass  after  these  things  that 
Joshua  the  son  of  Nun,  the  servant  of  the  Lord,  died,  being  an 
hundred  and  ten  years  old. 

1  Sam.  xxv.  1. — And  Samuel  died  and  all  the  Israelites  were 
gathered  together  and  lamented  him. 

2  Sam.  i.  19. — The  beauty  of  Israel  is  slain  upon  thy  high 
places  :  how  are  the  mighty  fallen  ! 

2  Sam.  i.  25. — O  Jonathan,  thou  wast  slain  in  thine  high  places. 


TEXTS  FOR  FUNERAL  DISCOURSES.  309 

2  Sam.  iii.  32. — And  the  king  lifted  up  his  voice,  and  wept  at 
the  grave  of  Abner  ;  and  all  the  people  wept. 

2  Sam.  iii.  38. — Know  ye  not  that  there  is  a  prince  and  a  great 
man  fallen  this  day  in  Israel  ? 

2  Sam.  xxiii.  1. — Now  these  be  the  last  words  of  David. 

1  Kings  ii.   jo.  — So  David  slept  with  his  fathers. 

2  Kings  ii.  5. — Knowest  thou  that  the  Lord  will  take  away  thy 
master  from  thy  head  to-day  ?  And  he  answered,  Yea,  I  know 
it ;  hold  ye  your  peace. 

2  Kings  xxiii.  30. — And  his  servants  carried  him  in  a  chariot 
dead  from  Megiddo,  and  brought  him  to  Jerusalem,  and  buried 
him  in  his  own  sepulchre. 

2  Chronicles  xxxi.  21. — And  in  every  work  that  he  began  in  the 
service  of  the  house  of  God,  and  in  the  law  and  in  the  command- 
ments, to  seek  his  God,  he  did  it  with  all  his  heart,  and  prospered. 

2  Chron.  xxxii.  27,  33. — And  Hezekiah  had  exceeding  much 
riches  and  honor.     .     .     .     And  Hezekiah  slept  with  his  fathers. 

2  Chron.  xxxii.  33. — And  Hezekiah  slept  with  his  fathers,  and 
they  buried  him  in  the  chiefest  of  the  sepulchres  of  the  sons  of 
David  :  and  all  Judah  and  the  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem  did  him 
honor  at  his  death. 

2  Chron.  xxxv.  25. — And  Jeremiah  lamented  for  Josiah  :  and 
all  the  singing  men  and  the  singing  women  spake  of  Josiah  in 
their  lamentations  to  this  day,  and  made  them  an  ordinance  in 
Israel  :  and,  behold,  they  are  written  in  the  lamentations. 

Job  xxxiv.  24. — They  are  exalted  for  a  little  while,  but  are  gone 
and  brought  low. 

Job  xxxiv.  20. — The  mighty  shall  be  taken  away  without  hand. 

Ps.  xlix.  1 7.  — For  when  he  dieth  he  shall  carry  nothing  away  : 
his  glory  shall  not  descend  after  him. 

Isa.  iii.  1-3. — For  behold  the  Lord,  the  Lord  of  hosts,  doth  take 
away  from  Jerusalem  and  from  Judah  .  .  .  the  mighty  man, 
and  the  man  of  war,  the  judge,  and  the  prophet,  and  the  prudent, 


310  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

and  the  ancient,  the  captain  of  fifty,  and  the  honorable  man,  and 
the  counsellor,  and  the  cunning  artificer,  and  the  eloquent  orator. 

Isa.  xxiii.  9.  — The  Lord  of  hosts  hath  purposed  it,  to  stain  the 
pride  of  all  glory,  and  to  bring  into  contempt  all  the  honorable  of 
the  earth. 

Matt.  xxv.  15. — Unto  one  he  gave  five  talents,  to  another  two, 
to  another  one. 

John  v.  35. — He  was  the  lamp  that  burneth  and  shineth  :  and 
ye  were  willing  to  rejoice  for  a  season  in  his  light. 

12.  Admonition  and  exhortation. 

Deut.  xxxi.  14. — Behold  thy  days  approach  that  thou  must  die. 

Deut.  xxxii.  29. — O  that  they  were  wise,  that  they  understood 
this,  that  they  would  consider  their  latter  end  ! 

Josh.  i.  11. — Prepare  you  victuals;  for  within  three  days  ye 
shall  pass  over  this  Jordan. 

Josh.  iii.  4. — That  ye  may  know  the  way  by  which  ye  must  go  : 
for  ye  have  not  passed  this  way  heretofore. 

1  Kings  xx.  ii. — Let  not  him  that  girdeth  on  his  harness  boast 
himself  as  he  that  putteth  it  off. 

2  Kings  xx.  1. — Set  thine  house  in  order  ;  for  thou  shalt  die, 
and  not  live. 

Job  xxxiii.  14. — For  God  speaketh  once,  yea  twice,  yet  man 
perceiveth  it  not. 

Ps.  xc.  12. — So  teach  us  to  number  our  days  that  we  may  apply 
our  hearts  unto  wisdom. 

Prow  xi.  4. — Riches  profit  not  in  the  day  of  wrath  ;  but  right- 
eousness delivereth  from  death. 

Eccles.  vii.  2. — It  is  better  to  go  to  the  house  of  mourning  than 
to  go  to  the  house  of  feasting  :  for  that  is  the  end  of  all  men  :  and 
the  living  will  lay  it  to  his  heart. 

Eccles.  ix.  10. — Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with 
thy  might  ;  for  there  is  no  work,  nor  device,  nor  knowledge,  nor 
wisdom,  in  the  grave,  whither  thou  goest. 


TEXTS  FOR  FUNERAL  DISCOURSES.  311 

Ecclcs.  xi.  9.  — Rejoice,  0  young  man,  in  thy  youth  ;  and  let 
thy  heart  cheer  thee  in  the  days  of  thy  youth,  and  walk  in  the 
ways  of  thine  heart,  and  in  the  sight  of  thine  eyes  :  but  know  thou 
that  for  all  these  things  God  will  bring  thee  into  judgment. 

Eccles.  xii.  1. — Remember  now  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy 
youth. 

Jer.  v.  31. — What  will  ye  do  in  the  end  thereof? 

Ezek.  vii.  6. — An  end  is  come,  the  end  is  come  ;  it  watcheth 
for  thee  ;  behold  it  is  come. 

Dan.  xii.  8. — What  shall  be  the  end  of  these  things  ? 

Amos  iv.  12. — Prepare  to  meet  thy  God. 

Amos  v.  6. — Seek  the  Lord  and  ye  shall  live. 

Amos  v.  8. — Seek  Him  that  .  .  .  turneth  the  shadow  of 
death  into  the  morning. 

Matt.  vi.  19,  20. — Lay  not  up  for  yourselves  treasures  upon  the 
earth,  where  moth  and  rust  doth  consume,  and  where  thieves  break 
through  and  steal  :  but  lay  up  for  yourselves  treasures  in  heaven, 
where  neither  moth  nor  rust  doth  consume,  and  where  thieves  do 
not  break  through  nor  steal. 

Matt.  x.  28. — Be  not  afraid  of  them  which  kill  the  body,  but 
are  not  able  to  kill  the  soul  :  but  rather  fear  Him  which  is  able  to 
destroy  both  soul  and  body  in  hell. 

Matt.  xvi.  26. — For  what  shall  a  man  be  profited,  if  he  shall 
gain  the  whole  world,  and  forfeit  his  life  ?  or  what  shall  a  man 
give  in  exchange  for  his  life  ? 

Luke  xii.  33,  34. — Make  for  yourselves  purses  which  wax  not 
old,  a  treasure  in  the  heavens  that  faileth  not,  where  no  thief 
draweth  near,  neither  moth  destroyeth.  For  where  your  treasure 
is,  there  will  your  heart  be  also. 

Luke  xii.  35. — Let  your  loins  be  girded  about  and  your  lamps 
burning. 

Rom.  xiv.  7. —For  none  of  us  liveth  to  himself,  and  none  dieth 
to  himself. 


312  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

Rom.  xiv.  10. — For  we  shall  all  stand  before  the  judgment  seat 
of  God. 

Rom.  xiv.  12. — So  then  each  one  of  us  shall  give  account  of 
himself  to  God. 

2  Cor.  v.  io. — We  must  all  be  made  manifest  before  the  judg- 
ment seat  of  Christ ;  that  each  one  may  receive  the  things  done  in 
the  body,  according  to  what  he  hath  done,  whether  it  be  good  or 
bad. 

Eph.  v.  1 6. — Redeeming  the  time,  because  the  days  are  evil. 

Col.  iii.  2. — Set  your  mind  on  the  things  which  are  above,  not 
on  the  things  that  are  on  the  earth. 

i  Thess.  v.  6. — So  then  let  us  not  sleep,  as  do  the  rest,  but  let 
us  watch  and  be  sober. 

Heb.  ix.  27.- — It  is  appointed  unto  men  once  to  die,  and  after 
this  cometh  judgment. 

1  Peter  iv.  5. — Who  shall  give  account  to  Him  that  is  ready  to 
judge  the  quick  and  the  dead  ? 

2  Peter  i.  14. — The  putting  off  of  my  tabernacle  cometh  swiftly. 

Rev.  iii.  11. — I  come  quickly  :  hold  fast  that  which  thou  hast, 
that  no  one  take  thy  crown. 

Rev.  xx.  12.' — And  I  saw  the  dead,  the  great  and  the  small, 
standing  before  the  throne,  and  books  were  opened  ;  and  another 
book  was  opened,  which  is  the  book  of  life  :  and  the  dead  were 
judged  out  of  the  things  which  were  written  in  the  books,  accord- 
ing to  their  works. 

Rev.  xx.  13. — And  the  sea  gave  up  the  dead  which  were  in  it ; 
and  death  and  Hades  gave  up  the  dead  which  were  in  them  :  and 
they  were  judged  every  man  according  to  their  works. 

Rev.  xxii.  12. — Behold,  I  come  quickly;  and  my  reward  is 
with  Me,  to  render  to  each  man  according  as  his  work  is. 

13.  Transiency  of  life. 

Josh,  xxiii.  14. — Behold,  this  day  I  am  going  the  way  of  all  the 
earth. 


TEXTS  FOR  FUNERAL  DISCOURSES.  313 


Judges  ii.  10. — Also  all  that  generation  were  gathered  unto 
their  fathers. 

1  Sam.  xx.  3. — There  is  but  a  step  between  me  and  death. 

2  Sam.  xiv.  14. — For  we  must  needs  die,  and  are  as  water  spilt 
on  the  ground,  which  cannot  be  gathered  up  again. 

1  Kings  ii.  2. — I  go  the  way  of  all  the  earth. 

2  Kings  xix.  26. — They  were  as  the  grass  of  the  field,  and  as 
the  green  herb,  as  the  grass  on  the  housetops,  and  as  corn  blasted 
before  it  be  grown  up. 

Job  iv.  19. — Them  that  dwell  in  houses  of  clay,  whose  founda- 
tion is  in  the  dust,  which  are  crushed  before  the  moth. 

Job  vii.  1. — Is  there  not  an  appointed  time  to  man  upon  earth  ? 
are  not  his  days  also  like  the  days  of  an  hireling  ? 

Job  vii.  6. — My  days  are  swifter  than  a  weaver's  shuttle. 

Job  vii.  8.  —The  eye  of  him  that  hath  seen  me  shall  see  me  no 
more  :  thine  eyes  are  upon  me,  and  I  am  not. 

Job  vii.  9,  10. — As  the  cloud  is  consumed  and  vanisheth  away, 
so  he  that  goeth  down  to  the  grave  shall  come  up  no  more.  He 
shall  return  no  more  to  his  house,  neither  shall  his  place  know 
him  any  more. 

Job  vii.  21. — Now  shall  I  sleep  in  the  dust;  and  thou  shalt 
seek  me  in  the  morning,  but  I  shall  not  be. 

Job  viii.  9.  — For  we  are  but  of  yesterday,  and  know  nothing, 
because  our  days  upon  earth  are  a  shadow. 

Job  ix.  12. — Behold,  He  taketh  away,  who  can  hinder  Him? 
who  will  say  unto  Him,  What  doest  thou  ? 

Job  ix.  25,  26. — Now  my  days  are  swifter  than  a  post ;  they 
flee  away,  they  see  no  good.  They  are  passed  away  as  the  swift 
ships  ;  as  the  eagle  that  hasteth  to  the  prey. 

Job  xiv.  1,  2. — Man  that  is  born  of  a  woman  is  of  few  days, 
and  full  of  trouble.  He  cometh  forth  like  a  flower,  and  is  cut 
down  :  he  fleeth  also  as  a  shadow,  and  continueth  not. 

Job  xiv.  5. — Seeing  his  days  are  determined,  the  number  of  his 


314  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

months  are  with  thee,  thou  hast  appointed  his  bounds  that  he  can- 
not pass. 

Job  xiv.  10. — But  man  dieth,  and  wasteth  away  :  yea,  man 
giveth  up  the  ghost,  and  where  is  he  ? 

Job  xiv.  ii,  12. — As  the  waters  fail  from  the  sea,  and  the  flood 
decayeth  and  drieth  up  ;  so  man  lieth  down  and  riseth  not  :  till 
the  heavens  be  no  more,  they  shall  not  awake,  nor  be  raised  out 
of  their  sleep. 

Job  xiv.  1 6. — Thou  numberest  my  steps. 

Job  xiv.  19-21. — Thou  destroyest  the  hope  of  man.  Thou 
prevailest  forever  against  him,  and  he  passeth  :  thou  changest  his 
countenance  and  sendest  him  away.  His  sons  come  to  honor, 
and  he  knoweth  it  not,  and  they  are  brought  low,  but  he  perceiv- 
eth  it  not  of  them. 

Job  xvi.  22. — When  a  few  years  are  come,  then  I  shall  go  the 
way  whence  I  shall  not  return. 

Job  xvii.  1. — The  graves  are  ready  for  me. 

Job  xvii.  14,  15. — I  have  said  to  corruption,  Thou  art  my 
father  :  to  the  worm,  Thou  art  my  mother  and  sister.  And  where 
is  now  my  hope  ? 

Job  xx.  8,  9. — He  shall  fly  away  as  a  dream,  and  shall  not  be 
found  :  yea,  he  shall  be  chased  away  as  a  vision  of  the  night. 
The  eye  also  which  saw  him  shall  see  him  no  more  ;  neither  shall 
his  place  any  more  behold  him. 

Job  xxi.  26. — They  shall  lie  down  alike  in  the  dust,  and  the 
worms  shall  cover  them. 

Job  xxi.  32,  33. — Yet  shall  he  be  brought  to  the  grave,  and 
shall  remain  in  the  tomb.  The  clods  of  the  valley  shall  be  sweet 
unto  him,  and  every  man  shall  draw  after  him,  as  there  are  innu- 
merable before  him. 

Job  xxiv.  24. — They  are  exalted  for  a  little  while,  but  are  gone 
and  brought  low  ;  they  are  taken  out  of  the  way  as  all  other,  and 
cut  off  as  the  tops  of  the  ears  of  corn. 

Job  xxvii.    18. — He  buildeth  his  house  as  a  moth,  and  as  a 


TEXTS  FOR  FUNERAL  DISCOURSES.  315 

booth  that  the  keeper  maketh.     (See  also  St.  John  xiv.  1. — In  my 
Father's  house  are  many  mansions.) 

Job  xxx.  23. — For  I  know  that  thou  wilt  bring  me  to  death, 
and  to  the  house  appointed  for  all  living. 

Job  xxxiv.  15. — All  flesh  shall  perish  together,  and  man  shall 
turn  again  unto  dust. 

Ps.  xxxix.  4. — Ford,  make  me  to  know  mine  end,  and  the 
measure  of  my  days,  what  it  is  ;  that  I  may  know  how  frail  I  am. 

Ps.  xxxix.  5. — Behold  thou  hast  made  my  days  as  an  hand- 
breadth  ;  and  mine  age  is  as  nothing  before  thee  :  verily  every 
man  at  his  best  state  is  altogether  vanity. 

Ps.  xxxix.  6. — Surely  every  man  walketh  in  a  vain  show  :  surely 
they  are  disquieted  in  vain  :  he  heapeth  up  riches,  and  knoweth 
not  who  shall  gather  them. 

Ps.  xxxix.  11. — Thou  makest  his  beauty  to  consume  away  like 
a  moth. 

Ps.  xc.  5,  6. — In  the  morning  they  are  like  grass  which  groweth 
up.  In  the  morning  it  flourisheth,  and  groweth  up  ;  in  the  even- 
ing it  is  cut  down  and  withereth. 

Ps.  xc.  9. — We  spend  our  years  as  a  tale  that  is  told. 

Ps.  xc.  10. — The  days  of  our  years  are  threescore  years  and 
ten  ;  and  if  by  reason  of  strength  they  be  fourscore  years,  yet  is 
their  strength  labor  and  sorrow  ;  for  it  is  soon  cut  off,  and  we  fly 
away. 

Ps.  cii.  11. — My  days  are  like  a  shadow  that  declineth  ;  and  I 
am  withered  like  grass. 

Ps.  cii.  26. — They  shall  perish,  but  thou  shalt  endure  :  yea,  all 
of  them  shall  wax  old  as  a  garment  ;  as  a  vesture  shalt  thou 
change  them,  and  they  shall  be  changed. 

Ps.  ciii.  15,  16. — As  for  man,  his  days  are  as  grass  :  as  a  flower 
of  the  field,  so  he  flourisheth.  For  the  wind  passeth  over  it,  and 
it  is  gone  ;  and  the  place  thereof  shall  know  it  no  more. 

Ps.  cxliv.  4. — Man  is  like  to  vanity  :  his  days  are  as  a  shadow 
that  passeth  away. 


316  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

Ps.  cxlvi.  4,  5. — His  breath  goeth  forth,  he  returneth  to  his 
earth  ;  in  that  very  day  his  thoughts  perish.  Happy  is  he  that 
hath  the  God  of  Jacob  for  his  help,  whose  hope  is  in  the  Lord  his 
God. 

Prov.  xxvii.  1. — Boast  not  thyself  of  to-morrow;  for  thou 
knowest  not  what  a  day  may  bring  forth. 

Eccl.  i.  2. — Vanity  of  vanities,  saith  the  preacher,  vanity  of 
vanities  ;  all  is  vanity. 

Eccl.  i.  4. — One  generation  passeth  away,  and  another  genera- 
tion cometh  :  but  the  earth  abideth  for  ever. 

Eccl.  ii.  14. — One  event  happeneth  to  them  all. 

Eccl.  iii.  20. — All  go  unto  one  place  :  all  are  of  the  dust,  and 
all  turn  to  dust  again. 

Eccl.  v.  15. — As  he  came  forth  of  his  mother's  womb,  naked 
shall  he  return,  to  go  as  he  came,  and  shall  take  nothing  of  his 
labor,  which  he  may  carry  away  in  his  hand. 

Eccl.  viii.  8. — There  is  no  man  that  hath  power  over  the  spirit 
to  retain  the  spirit ;  neither  hath  he  power  in  the  day  of  death  : 
and  there  is  no  discharge  in  that  war. 

Eccl.  ix.  5. — For  the  living  know  that  they  shall  die. 

Isa.  ii.  22. — Cease  ye  from  man,  whose  breath  is  in  his  nos- 
trils :  for  wherein  is  he  to  be  accounted  of  ? 

Isa.  xl.  6,  7. — All  flesh  is  grass,  and  all  thegoodliness  thereof  is 
as  the  flower  of  the  field  :  the  grass  withereth,  the  flower  fadeth  : 
because  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  bloweth  upon  it  :  surely  the  people 
is  giass. 

Isa.  xl.  8.- — -The  grass  withereth,  the  flower  fadeth  ;  but  the 
word  of  our  God  shall  stand  forever. 

Isa.  Ixiv.  6. — We  all  do  fade  as  a  leaf. 

Dan.  iv.  35. — He  doeth  according  to  His  will  in  the  army  of 
heaven,  and  among  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  :  and  none  can 
stay  His  hand,  or  say  unto  Him,  What  doest  thou  ? 

Dan.  xi.  45. — He  shall  come  to  his  end,  and  none  shall  help 
.him. 


TEXTS  FOR  FUNERAL  DISCOURSES.  317 

Dan.  xii.  13. — Go  thou  thy  way  till  the  end  be  :  for  thou  shalt 
rest,  and  stand  in  thy  lot  at  the  end  of  the  days. 

Hosea  xiii.  3. — They  shall  be  as  the  morning  cloud,  and  as  the 
early  dew  that  passeth  away,  as  the  chaff  that  is  driven  with  the 
whirlwind  out  of  the  floor,  and  as  the  smoke  out  of  the  chimney. 

Micah  ii.  10. — Arise  ye,  and  depart ;  for  this  is  not  your  rest. 

Zech.  i.  5. — Your  fathers,  where  are  they  ?  and  the  prophets, 
do  they  live  forever  ? 

Rom.  v.  12. — Therefore,  as  through  one  man  sin  entered  into 
the  world,  and  death  through  sin  ;  and  so  death  passed  unto  all 
men,  for  that  all  sinned. 

James  i.  10. — As  the  flower  of  the  grass,  he  shall  pass  away. 

James  iv.  14. — Whereas  ye  know  not  what  shall  be  on  the  mor- 
row. What  is  your  life  ?  For  ye  are  a  vapor,  that  appeareth  for 
a  little  time,  and  then  vanisheth  away. 

1  Peter  i.  24,  25. — All  flesh  is  as  grass,  and  all  the  glory  thereof 
as  the  flower  of  the  grass.  The  grass  withereth,  and  the  flower 
falleth  :  but  the  word  of  the  Lord  abideth  forever. 

14.  Death  of  the  righteous. 

Ex.  xxxiii.  14. —  My  presence  shall  go  with  thee,  and  I  will  give 
thee  rest. 

Num.  xxiii.  10. — Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let 
my  last  end  be  like  his. 

Num.  xxv.  12. — Behold  I  give  unto  him  my  covenant  of  peace. 

Deut.  ix.  3. — Understand  therefore  this  day  that  the  Lord  thy 
God  is  He  which  goeth  over  before  thee. 

Deut.  xxviii.  6. — Blessed  shalt  thou  be  when  thou  comest  in, 
and  blessed  shalt  thou  be  when  thou  goest  out. 

Deut.  xxxi.  6. — For  the  Lord  thy  God,  He  it  is  that  doth  go 
with  thee  ;  He  will  not  fail  thee  nor  forsake  thee. 

Deut.  xxxii.  39. — I  kill,  and  I  make  alive  ;  I  wound  and  I 
heal  ;  neither  is  there  any  that  can  deliver  out  of  my  hand. 


31 8  PULPIT  AND   GRAVE. 

Josh.  iii.  17. — And  the  priests  that  bare  the  ark  of  the  covenant 
stood  firm  on  dry  ground  in  the  midst  of  Jordan,  and  all  the 
Israelites  passed  over  on  dry  ground. 

2  Kings  ii.  9. — Elijah  said  unto  Elisha,  Ask  what  I  shall  do 
for  thee,  before  I  be  taken  away  from  thee.  And  Elisha  said,  I 
pray  thee,  let  a  double  portion  of  thy  spirit  be  upon  me. 

2  Kings  ii.  11,  12. — It  came  to  pass,  as  they  still  went  on,  and 
talked,  that  behold,  there  appeared  a  chariot  of  fire  and  horses  of 
fire,  and  parted  them  both  asunder  ;  and  Elijah  went  up  by  a 
whirlwind  into  heaven.  And  Elisha  saw  it,  and  he  cried,  My 
father,  my  father,  the  chariot  of  Israel,  and  the  horsemen  thereof. 
And  he  saw  him  no  more. 

2  Kings  iv.  1. — Thy  servant  my  husband  is  dead;  and  thou 
knowest  that  thy  servant  did  fear  the  Lord. 

2  Kings  xviii.  19. — What  confidence  is  this  wherein  thou 
trustest  ? 

2  Kings  xxii.  20. — I  will  gather  thee  unto  thy  fathers,  and  thou 
shalt  be  gathered  into  thy  grave  in  peace. 

Job  xi.  18,  19.  — Thou  shalt  take  thy  rest  in  safety.  Also  thou 
shalt  lie  down,  and  none  shall  make  thee  afraid. 

Ps.  ix.  13. — Thou  that  liftest  me  up  from  the  gates  of  death. 

Ps.  xii.  1. — Help,  Lord;  for  the  godly  man  ceaseth  ;  for  the 
faithful  fail  from  among  the  children  of  men. 

Ps.  xxiii.  4. — Yea  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil  :  for  thou  art  with  me  ;  thy 
rod  and  thy  staff  they  comfort  me. 

Ps.  xxxvii.  17. — Mark  the  perfect  man,  and  behold  the  up- 
right ;  for  the  end  of  that  man  is  peace. 

Ps.  cii.  19,  20. — For  Pie  hath  looked  down  from  the  height  of 
His  sanctuary  ...   to  loose  those  that  are  appointed  to  death. 

Ps.  cxvi.  15. — Precious  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  is  the  death  of 
His  saints. 

Ps.  cxxvii.  2. — He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep. 

Ps.  cxxxix.  11. — Even  the  night  shall  be  light  about  me. 


TEXTS  FOR  FUNERAL  DISCOURSES.  319 

Prov.  x.  7. — The  memory  of  the  just  is  blessed. 

Prov.  xii.  28. — In  the  way  of  righteousness  is  life  ;  and  in  the 
pathway  thereof  there  is  no  death. 

Eccles.  ii.  16. — How  dieth  the  wise  man  ? 

Isa.  xl.  2. — Speak  ye  comfortably  to  Jerusalem,  and  cry  unto 
her,  that  her  warfare  is  accomplished. 

Isa.  Ivii.  1,  2. — The  righteous  is  taken  away  from  the  evil  to 
come.     He  shall  enter  into  peace. 

Ezek.  xviii.  28. — Because  he  considereth,  and  turneth  away 
from  all  his  transgressions  which  he  hath  committed,  he  shall 
surely  live,  he  shall  not  die. 

Ezek.  xx.  29. — What  is  the  high  place  whereunto  ye  go  ? 

Dan.  xii.  3. — They  that  be  wise  shall  shine  as  the  brightness  of 
the  firmament  ;  and  they  that  turn  many  to  righteousness  as  the 
stars  forever  and  ever. 

Zech.  xiv.  7. — At  evening  time  it  shall  be  light. 

Mai.  ii.  6. — The  law  of  truth  was  in  his  mouth,  and  iniquity 
was  not  found  in  his  lips  :  he  walked  Avith  me  in  peace  and  equity, 
and  did  turn  many  away  from  iniquity. 

Mai.  iii.  17. — And  they  shall  be  mine,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts, 
in  that  day  when  I  make  up  my  jewels. 

Matt.  v.  8. — Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see 
God. 

Matt.  vii.  20. — By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them. 

Matt.  x.  39. — He  that  loseth  his  life  for  my  sake,  shall  find  it. 

Matt.  xi.  2S. — Come  unto  Me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest. 

Matt.  xiii.  43. — Then  shall  the  righteous  shine  forth  as  the  sun 
in  the  kingdom  of  their  Father. 

Matt.  xxiv.  46. — Blessed  is  that  servant,  whom  his  lord  when 
he  cometh  shall  find  so  doing. 

Matt.  xxv.  34. — Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit  the 
kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world. 


320  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

Luke  xiv.  1 7.  — Come,  for  all  things  are  now  ready. 

Luke  xxiii.  43. — To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise. 

John  xvii.  4. — I  glorified  thee  on  the  earth,  having  accom- 
plished the  work  which  thou  hast  given  me  to  do. 

Rom.  viii.  16. — The  Spirit  himself  beareth  witness  with  our 
spirit  that  we  are  children  of  God. 

Rom.  viii.  37. — In  all  these  things  we  are. more  than  conquerors 
through  Him  that  loved  us. 

Rom.  xiv.  8. — Whether  we  live  therefore  or  die,  we  are  the 
Lord's. 

2  Cor.  v.  4. — For  indeed  we  that  are  in  this  tabernacle  do 
groan,  being  burdened  ;  not  for  that  we  would  be  unclothed,  but 
that  we  would  be  clothed  upon,  that  what  is  mortal  may  be  swal- 
lowed up  of  life. 

2  Cor.  v.  8. — We  are  of  good  courage,  I  say,  and  are  willing 
rather  to  be  absent  from  the  body,  and  to  be  at  home  with  the 
Lord. 

Phil.  i.  21. — For  to  me  to   live  is  Christ,  and  to  die  is  gain. 

Phil.  i.  23. — But  I  am  in  a  strait  betwixt  the  two,  having  the 
desire  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ ;  for  it  is  very  far  better. 

2  Tim.  iv.  6-8.  — For  I  am  already  being  offered,  and  the  time 
of  my  departure  is  come.  I  have  fought  the  good  fight,  I  have 
finished  the  course,  I  have  kept  the  faith  :  henceforth  there  is  laid 
up  for  me  the  crown  of  righteousness. 

Heb.  ii.  14,  15. — That  through  death  He  might  bring  to 
nought  him  that  had  the  power  of  death,  that  is  the  devil  ;  and 
might  deliver  all  them  who  through  fear  of  death  were  all  their 
lifetime  subject  to  bondage. 

Heb.  iv.  9. — There  remaineth  therefore  a  Sabbath  rest  for  the 
people  of  God. 

Heb.  vi.  18,  19. —  .  .  .  the  hope  set  before  us  ;  which  we  have 
as  an  anchor  of  the  soul,  a  hope  both  sure  and  steadfast  and  en- 
tering into  that  which  is  within  the  veil. 


TEXTS  FOR  FUNERAL  DISCOURSES.  321 

Heb.  x.  34. — Knowing  that  ye  yourselves  have  a  better  posses- 
sion, and  an  abiding  one. 

Heb.  x.  37. — For  yet  a  very  little  while,  He  that  cometh  shall 
come,  and  shall  not  tarry.  But  my  righteous  one  shall  live  by 
faith. 

Heb.  xi.  4. — He  being  dead,  yet  speaketh. 

Heb.  xi.  9. — For  he  looked  for  the  city  which  hath  the  founda- 
tions, whose  builder  and  maker  is  God. 

Heb.  xi.  13. — Having  confessed  that  they  were  strangers  and 
pilgrims  on  the  earth. 

Heb.  xi.  16. — But  now  they  desire  a  better  country,  that  is,  a 
heavenly  :  wherefore  God  is  not  ashamed  of  them,  to  be  called 
their  God  :  for  He  hath  prepared  for  them  a  city. 

Heb.  xiii.  14. — For  we  have  not  here  an  abiding  city,  but  we 
seek  after  the  city  which  is  to  come. 

James  i.  12. — He  shall  receive  the  crown  of  life,  which  the 
Lord  promised  to  them  that  love  Him. 

1  Peter  v.  4. — Ye  shall  receive  the  crown  of  glory  that  fadeth 
not  away. 

1  John  iii.  2. — Beloved,  now  are  we  children  of  God,  and  it  is 
not  yet  made  manifest  what  we  shall  be.  We  know  that,  if  He 
shall  be  manifested,  we  shall  be  like  Him  ;  for  we  shall  see  Him 
even  as  He  is. 

1  John  v.  12. — He  that  hath  the  Son  hath  the  life. 

Rev.  ii.  10. — Be  thou  faithful  unto  death,  and  I  will  give  thee 
the  crown  of  life. 

Rev.  ii.  17. — To  him  that  overcometh,  to  him  will  I  give  of  the 
hidden  manna,  and  I  will  give  him  a  white  stone,  and  upon  the 
stone  a  new  name  written,  which  no  one  knoweth  but  he  that 
receiveth  it. 

Rev.  iii.  4. — They  shall  walk  with  me  in  white  ;  for  they  are 
worthy. 

Rev.  iii.  5. — He  that  overcometh  shall  thus  be  arrayed  in  white 
garments,  and  I  will  in  no  wise  blot  his  name  out  of  the  book  of 


322  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

life,  and  I  will  confess  his  name  before  my  Father,  and  before  His 
angels. 

Rev.  iii.  12. — He  that  overcometh,  I  will  make  him  a  pillar  in 
the  temple  of  my  God,  and  he  shall  go  out  thence  no  more. 

Rev.  iii.  21. — He  that  overcometh,  I  will  give  to  him  to  sit 
down  with  Me  in  my  throne. 

Rev.  vi.  11. — And  there  was  given  them  to  each  one  a  white 
robe  ;  and  it  was  said  unto  them,  that  they  should  rest  yet  for  a 
little  time. 

Rev.  vii.  13. — These  which  are  arrayed  in  the  white  robes,  who 
are  they,  and  whence  came  they  ? 

Rev.  vii.  14,  15. — They  washed  their  robes  and  made  them 
white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  Therefore  are  they  before  the 
throne  of  God  ;  and  they  serve  Him  day  and  night  in  His  temple. 

Rev.  vii.  16,  17. — They  shall  hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst 
any  more  ;  neither  shall  the  sun  strike  upon  them,  nor  any  heat  : 
for  the  Lamb  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  shall  be  their 
shepherd,  and  shall  guide  unto  fountains  of  the  waters  of  life  :  and 
God  shall  wipe  away  every  tear  from  their  eyes. 

Rev.  xiv.  13. — And  I  heard  a  voice  from  heaven  saying,  Write, 
Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord  from  henceforth  :  yea, 
saith  the  Spirit,  that  they  may  rest  from  their  labors  ;  for  their 
works  follow  them. 

Rev.  xv.  3. — They  sing  the  song  of  Moses,  the  servant  of  God, 
and  the  song  of  the  Lamb. 

Rev.  xix.  9. — Write,  Blessed  are  they  which  are  bidden  to  the 
marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb. 

Rev.  xxi.  3,  4. — He  shall  dwell  with  them,  and  they  shall  be 
His  peoples,  and  God  himself  shall  be  with  them,  and  be  their 
God  :  and  He  shall  wipe  away  every  tear  from  their  eyes  ;  and 
death  shall  be  no  more  ;  neither  shall  there  be  mourning,  nor 
crying,  nor  pain  any  more. 

Rev.  xxi.  7. — He  that  overcometh  shall  inherit  these  things  ; 
and  I  will  be  his  God,  and  he  shall  be  my  son. 


TEXTS  FOR  FUNERAL  DISCOURSES.  323 

Rev.  xxii.  4. — And  they  shall  see  His  face;  and  His  name 
shall  be  on  their  foreheads. 

Rev.  xxii.  14. — Blessed  are  they  that  wash  their  robes,  that  they 
may  have  the  right  to  come  to  the  tree  of  life,  and  may  enter  in 
by  the  gates  into  the  city. 

15.  Heaven  and  immortality. 

Deut.  xxxii.  40.  — For  I  lift  up  my  hand  to  heaven,  and  say,  I 
live  forever. 

1  Sam.  ii.  6. — The  Lord  killeth  and  maketh  alive  :  He  bringeth 
down  to  the  grave  and  bringeth  up. 

Job  iii.  17. — There  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  there 
the  weary  be  at  rest. 

Job  xiv.  14. — If  a  man  die,  shall  he  live  again  ? 

Job  xix.  26. — Though  after  my  skin  worms  destroy  this  body, 
yet  in  my  flesh  shall  I  see  God. 

Ps.  xvi.  10. — For  thou  wilt  not  leave  my  soul  in  hell  ;  neither 
wilt  thcu  suffer  thine  Holy  One  to  see  corruption. 

Ps.  xvi.  11. — Thou  wilt  show  me  the  path  of  life  :  in  thy  pres- 
ence is  fulness  of  joy  ;  at  thy  right  hand  there  are  pleasures  for- 
evermore. 

Ps.  xlix.  15. — But  God  will  redeem  my  soul  from  the  power  of 
the  grave,  for  He  will  receive  me. 

Ps.  lxviii.  18. — Thou  hast  ascended  on  high,  thou  hast  led 
captivity  captive. 

Isa.  xxv.  8. — He  will  swallow  up  death  in  victory;  and  the 
Lord  God  shall  wipe  away  tears  from  off  all  faces. 

Isa.  xxvi.  19. — Thy  dead  men  shall  live,  together  with  my  dead 
body  shall  they  arise.  Awake  and  sing,  ye  that  dwell  in  dust  : 
for  thy  dew  is  as  the  dew  of  herbs,  and  the  earth  shall  cast  out  the 
dead. 

Isa.  xxxiii.  17. — Thine  eyes  shall  see  the  King  in  His  beauty  : 
they  shall  behold  the  land  that  is  very  far  off. 


324  PULPIT  AND   GRAVE. 

Isa.  xxxiii.  24. — The  inhabitant  shall  not  say,  I  am  sick  ;  the 
people  that  dwell  therein  shall  be  forgiven  their  iniquity. 

Isa.  xxxv.  9,  10. — The  redeemed  shall  walk  there  :  and  the 
ransomed  of  the  Lord  shall  return,  and  come  to  Zion  with  songs 
and  everlasting  joy  upon  their  heads  :  they  shall  obtain  joy  and 
gladness,  and  sorrow  and  sighing  shall  flee  away. 

Isa.  xxxviii.  16. — O  Lord,  by  these  things  men  live,  and  in  all 
these  things  is  the  life  of  my  spirit. 

Isa.  xl.  31. — They  that  wait  upon  the  Lord  shall  renew  their 
strength  ;  they  shall  mount  up  with  wings  as  eagles  ;  they  shall 
run  and  not  be  weary  ;  and  they  shall  walk  and  not  faint. 

Isa.  lx.  20. — Thy  sun  shall  no  more  go  down,  neither  shall  thy 
moon  withdraw  itself  :  for  the  Lord  shall  be  thine  everlasting  light, 
and  the  days  of  thy  mourning  shall  be  ended. 

Isa.  lxv.  19. — I  will  rejoice  in  Jerusalem,  and  joy  in  my  peo- 
ple :  and  the  voice  of  weeping  shall  be  no  more  heard  in  her,  nor 
the  voice  of  crying. 

Ezek.  xxxvii.  3. — Son  of  man,  can  these  bones  live  ? 

Ezek.  xxxvii.  9. — Come  from  the  four  winds,  O  breath,  and 
breathe  upon  these  slain,  that  they  may  live. 

Ezek.  xxxvii.  12. — Behold,  O  my  people,  I  will  open  your 
graves  and  cause  you  to  come  up  out  of  your  graves,  and  bring 
you  into  the  land  of  Israel. 

Hosea  xiii.  14. — I  will  ransom  them  from  the  power  of  the 
grave  ;  I  will  redeem  them  from  death  :  O  death,  I  will  be  thy 
plagues  ;  O  grave,  I  will  be  thy  destruction. 

Habakkuk  i.  12. — Art  thou  not  from  everlasting,  O  Lord  my 
God,  mine  Holy  One  ?  we  shall  not  die. 

Zech.  iii.  3,  4. — Joshua  was  clothed  with  filthy  garments,  and 
stood  before  the  angel.  And  he  answered  and  spake  unto  those 
that  stood  before  him,  saying,  Take  away  the  filthy  garments  from 
him. 

Zech.  iii.  7. — I  will  give  thee  places  to  walk  among  these  that 
stand  by. 

Matt.  vi.  20. — Lay  up  for  yourselves  treasures  in  heaven,  where 


TEXTS  FOR  FUNERAL  DISCOURSES.  325 

neither  moth  nor  rust  doth  consume,  and  where  thieves  do  not 
break  through  nor  steal. 

Matt.  xiii.  43. — Then  shall  the  righteous  shine  forth  as  the  sun 
in  the  kingdom  of  their  Father. 

Matt,  xxviii.  7. — He  is  risen  from  the  dead  ;  and  lo,  He  goeth 
before  you  into  Galilee  ;  there  shall  ye  see  Him. 

Luke  xx.  36. — Neither  can  they  die  any  more  :  for  they  are 
equal  unto  the  angels  ;  and  are  sons  of  God,  being  sons  of  the 
resurrection. 

John  iii.  16. — For  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  He  gave  His 
only  begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  on  Him  should  not 
perish,  but  have  eternal  life. 

John  iii.  36. — He  that  believeth  on  the  Son  hath  eternal  life. 

John  v.  24. — He  that  heareth  my  word  and  believeth  on  Him 
that  sent  Me,  hath  eternal  life,  and  cometh  not  into  judgment, 
but  hath  passed  out  of  death  into  life. 

John  v.  25. — The  hour  cometh,  and  now  is,  when  the  dead 
shall  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God  ;  and  they  that  hear  shall 
live. 

John  v.  28,  29. — For  the  hour  cometh,  when  all  that  are  in  the 
tombs  shall  hear  His  voice,  and  shall  come  forth  ;  they  that  have 
done  good,  unto  the  resurrection  of  life  ;  and  they  that  have  done 
ill,  unto  the  resurrection  of  judgment. 

John  vi.  39. — And  this  is  the  will  of  Him  that  sent  Me,  that  of 
all  that  which  He  hath  given  Me  I  should  lose  nothing,  but 
should  raise  it  up  at  the  last  day. 

John  vi.  40. — For  this  is  the  will  of  my  Father,  that  every  one 
that  beholdeth  the  Son,  and  believeth  on  Him,  should  have  eter- 
nal life  ;  and  I  will  raise  him  up  at  the  last  day. 

John  vi.  48-50. — I  am  the  bread  of  life.  Your  fathers  did  eat 
the  manna  in  the  wilderness,  and  they  died.  This  is  the  bread 
that  cometh  down  out  of  heaven,  that  a  man  may  eat  thereof  and 
not  die. 

John  vi.  51. — I  am  the  living  bread  which  came  down  out  of 
heaven  :  if  any  man  eat  of  this  bread,  he  shall  live  forever. 


326  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

John  vi.  54. — He  that  eateth  my  flesh  and  drinketh  my  blood 
hath  eternal  life  ;  and  I  will  raise  him  up  at  the  last  day. 

John  x.  10. — I  came  that  they  may  have  life,  and  may  have  it 
abundantly. 

John  x.  28. — I  give  unto  them  eternal  life  ;  and  they  shall 
never  perish. 

John  xi.  25,  26. — I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life  ;  he  that 
believeth  on  Me,  though  he  die,  yet  shall  he  live  :  and  whosoever 
liveth  and  believeth  on  Me  shall  never  die. 

John  xii.  24. — Except  a  grain  of  wheat  fall  into  the  earth  and 
die,  it  abideth  by  itself  alone  ;  but  if  it  die,  it  beareth  much  fruit. 

John  xii.  25. — He  that  loveth  his  life  loseth  it ;  and  he  that 
hateth  his  life  in  this  world,  shall  keep  it  unto  life  eternal. 

John  xiv.  2,  3. — In  my  Father's  house  are  many  mansions  ;  if 
it  were  not  so,  I  would  have  told  you  ;  for  I  go  to  prepare  a  place 
for  you.  And  if  I  go  and  prepare  a  place  for  you,  I  come  again, 
and  will  receive  you  unto  myself ;  that  where  I  am  there  ye  may 
be  also. 

John  xiv.  19. — Because  I  live,  ye  shall  live  also. 

John  xvii.  24. — Father,  that  which  thou  hast  given  Me,  I  will 
that,  where  I  am,  they  also  may  be  with  Me,  that  they  may  be- 
hold my  glory,  which  thou  hast  given  Me. 

Rom.  v.  17. — For  if,  by  the  trespass  of  the  one,  death  reigned 
through  the  one  ;  much  more  shall  they  which  receive  the  abun- 
dance of  grace  and  of  the  gift  of  righteousness,  reign  in  life  through 
the  one,  even  Jesus  Christ. 

Rom.  vi.  23. — For  the  wages  of  sin  is  death  ;  but  the  free  gift 
of  God  is  eternal  life  in  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 

Rom.  viii.  2. — For  the  law  of  the  Spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus 
made  me  free  from  the  law  of  sin  and  of  death. 

Rom.  viii.  13. — For  if  ye  live  after  the  flesh,  ye  must  die  ;  but 
if  by  the  spirit  ye  mortify  the  deeds  of  the  body,  ye  shall  live. 

Rom.  viii.  18. — For  I  reckon  that  the  sufferings  of  this  present 


TEXTS  FOR  FUNERAL  DISCOURSES.  327 

time  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  which  shall  be 
revealed  to  us-ward. 

Rom.  viii.  $8,  39. — For  I  am  persuaded  that  neither  death  nor 
life  .   .   .  shall  be  able  to  separate  us  from  the  love  of  God. 

1  Cor.  ii.  9. — Things  which  eye  saw  not,  and  ear  heard  not, 
and  which  entered  not  into  the  heart  of  man,  whatsoever  things 
God  prepared  for  them  that  love  Him. 

1  Cor.  xiii.  12. — For  now  we  see  in  a  mirror,  darkly  ;  but  then 
face  to  face  :  now  I  know  in  part ;  but  then  I  shall  know  even 
as  also  1  have  been  known. 

1  Cor.  xv.  20. — But  now  hath  Christ  been  raised  from  the  dead, 
the  firstfruits  of  them  that  are  asleep. 

1  Cor.  xv.  22. — In  Christ  shall  all  be  made  alive. 

1  Cor.  xv.  26. — The  last  enemy  that  shall  be  abolished  is  death. 

1  Cor.  xv.  36. — That  which  thou  thyself  sowest  is  not  quick- 
ened except  it  die. 

1  Cor.  xv.  42-44. — It  is  sown  in  corruption  ;  it  is  raised  in 
incorruption  :  it  is  sown  in  dishonor  ;  it  is  raised  in  glory  :  it  is 
sown  in  weakness  ,  it  is  raised  in  power  :  it  is  sown  a  natural 
body  ;  it  is  raised  a  spiritual  body. 

1  Cor.  xv.  49. — As  we  have  borne  the  image  of  the  earthy,  we 
shall  also  bear  the  image  of  the  heavenly. 

1  Cor.  xv.  52. — For  the  trumpet  shall  sound,  and  the  dead 
shall  be  raised  incorruptible,  and  we  shall  be  changed. 

1  Cor.  xv.  53,  54. — For  this  corruptible  must  put  on  incorrup- 
tion, and  this  mortal  must  put  on  immortality.  But  when  this 
corruptible  shall  have  put  on  incorruption,  and  this  mortal  shall 
have  put  on  immortality,  then  shall  come  to  pass  the  saying  that 
is  written,  Death  is  swallowed  up  in  victory. 

1  Cor.  xv.  55-57. — O  death,  where  is  thy  sting  ?  O  grave, 
where  is  thy  victory  ?  The  sting  of  death  is  sin  ;  and  the  strength 
of  sin  is  the  law  :  but  thanks  be  to  God,  which  giveth  us  the  vic- 
tory through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

2  Cor.  iv.  14. — Knowing  that  He  which  raised  up  the  Lord 


328  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

Jesus  shall  raise  up  us  also  with  Jesus,  and  shall  present  us  with 
you. 

2  Cor.  v.  i. — For  we  know  that  if  the  earthly  house  of  our  tab- 
ernacle be  dissolved,  we  have  a  building  from  God,  a  house  not 
made  with  hands,  eternal,  in  the  heavens. 

Gal.  vi.  8. — He  that  soweth  unto  the  Spirit,  shall  of  the  Spirit 
reap  eternal  life. 

Eph.  iv.  8. — When  He  ascended  on  high  He  led  captivity  cap- 
tive, and  gave  gifts  unto  men. 

Eph.  v.  i$.- — Awake,  thou  that  sleepest,  and  arise  from  the 
dead,  and  Christ  shall  shine  upon  thee. 

Phil.  iii.  20,  21. — For  our  citizenship  is  in  heaven  ;  from 
whence  also  we  wait  for  a  Saviour,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ :  who 
shall  fashion  anew  the  body  of  our  humiliation,  that  it  may  be 
conformed  to  the  body  of  His  glory. 

2  Tim.  ii.  n,  12. — For  if  we  died  with  Him,  we  shall  also  live 
with  Him  :  if  we  endure,  we  shall  also  reign  with  Him. 

Titus  i.  2. — In  hope  of  eternal  life,  which  God,  who  cannot  lie, 
promised  before  times  eternal. 

Heb.  xi.  10. — The  city  which  hath  the  foundations,  whose 
builder  and  maker  is  God. 

Heb.  xi.  19. — Accounting  that  God  is  able  to  raise  up,  even 
from  the  dead. 

Heb.  xii.  22. — But  ye  are  come  unto  Mount  Zion,  and  unto 
the  city  of  the  living  God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  to  innu- 
merable hosts  of  angels. 

1  Peter  i.  4. — Unto  an  inheritance  incorruptible,  and  undefiled, 
and  that  fadeth  not  away. 

1  Peter  i.  23. — Begotten  again  not  of  corruptible  seed,  but  of 
incorruptible. 

1  John  ii.  17. — The  world  passeth  away,  and  the  lust  thereof : 
but  he  that  doeth  the  will  of  God  abideth  forever. 

1  John  ii.  25. — And  this  is  the  promise  which  He  hath  prom- 
ised us,  even  the  life  eternal. 


TEXTS  FOR  FUNERAL  DISCOURSES.  329 

1  John  v.  13. — That  ye  may  know  that  ye  have  eternal  life. 

Rev.  i.  18. — I  was  dead,  and  behold,  I  am  alive  for  evermore, 
and  I  have  the  keys  of  death  and  of  Hades. 

Rev.  ii.  7. — To  him  that  overcometh,  to  him  will  I  give  to  eat 
of  the  tree  of  life,  which  is  in  the  Paradise  of  God. 

Rev.  vii.  16,  17. — They  shall  hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst 
any  more  ;  neither  shall  the  sun  strike  upon  them,  nor  any  heat. 

Rev.  xxi.  23. — And  the  city  hath  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither  of 
the  moon,  to  shine  upon  it :  for  the  glory  of  God  did  lighten  it, 
and  the  lamp  thereof  is  the  Lamb. 

16.  Miscellaneous. 

Ex.  xxxiii.  18. — I  beseech  thee,  show  me  thy  glory. 

Ex.  xxxiii.  20. — For  there  shall  no  man  see  Me,  and  live. 

Deut.  v.  25. — Now,  therefore,  why  should  we  die? 

Deut.  xxxii.  43. — For  He  will  avenge  the  blood  of  His  servants. 

Josh,  xviii.  3. — How  long  are  ye  slack  to  go  to  possess  the  land 
which  the  Lord  God  of  your  fathers  hath  given  you  ? 

Judges  xvi.  30. — So  the  dead  which  he  slew  at  his  death  were 
more  than  they  which  he  slew  in  his  life. 

1  Sam.  hi.  18. — It  is  the  Lord  :  let  Him  do  what  seemeth  Him 
good. 

1  Sam.  xiv.  17. — Number  now,  and  see  who  is  gone  from  us. 

1  Sam.  xx.  18. — Thou  shalt  be  missed,  because  thy  seat  will  be 
empty. 

2  Sam.  iii.  34. — As  a  man  falleth  before  wicked  men,  so  fellest 
thou. 

1  Kings  xiv.  6.  — I  am  sent  to  thee  with  heavy  tidings. 

2  Kings  i.  4. — Thou  shalt  not  come  down  from  that  bed  on 
which  thou  art  gone  up,  but  shalt  surely  die. 

2  Kings  xxiii.  17. — It  is  the  sepulchre  of  the  man  of  God. 

Job  xix.  25. — I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth. 


330  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

Job  xxix.  1 8. — I  said,  I  shall  die  in  my  nest. 

Job  xxxviii.  1 7.  — Have  the  gates  of  death  been  opened  unto 
thee  ?  or  hast  thou  seen  the  doors  of  the  shadow  of  death  ? 

Ps.  xxxvi.  6. — Thy  judgments  are  a  great  deep. 

Ps.  lxviii.  20. — Unto  God  the  Lord  belong  the  issues  from 
death. 

Ps.  Ixxvii.  19. — Thy  way  is  in  the  sea,  and  thy  path  in  the 
great  waters,  and  thy  footsteps  are  not  known. 

Ps.  Ixxxii.  7. — Ye  shall  die  like  men,  and  fall  like  one  of  the 
princes. 

Ps.  cxli.  7. — Our  bones  are  scattered  at  the  grave's  mouth  as 
when  one  cutteth  and  cleaveth  wood  upon  the  earth. 

Eccles.  iii.  2. — A  time  to  die. 

Eccles.  xii.  5,  6. — Because  man  goeth  to  his  long  home,  and 
the  mourners  go  about  the  streets  :  or  ever  the  silver  cord  be 
loosed,  or  the  golden  bowl  be  broken,  or  the  pitcher  be  broken 
at  the  fountain,  or  the  wheel  broken  at  the  cistern. 

Eccles.  xii.  7. — Then  shall  the  dust  return  to  the  earth  as  it 
was  :  and  the  spirit  shall  return  unto  God  who  gave  it. 

Isa.  xvii.  7. — At  that  day  shall  a  man  look  to  his  Maker,  and 
his  eyes  shall  have  respect  to  the  Holy  one  of  Israel. 

Jonah  iv.  7. — God  prepared  a  worm  when  the  morning  rose  the 
next  day,  and  it  smote  the  gourd,  that  it  withered. 

Haggai  ii.  3. — Who  is  left  among  you  that  saw  this  house  in 
her  first  glory  ? 

Zech.  iii.  2. — Is  not  this  a  brand  plucked  out  of  the  fire  ? 

Luke  i.  79. — To  shine  upon  them  that  sit  in  darkness  and  the 
shadow  of  death. 

Luke  xiii.  22. — And  He  went  on  His  way  through  cities  and 
villages,  teaching,  and  journeying  on  unto  Jerusalem. 

Luke  xx.  38. — Now  He  is  not  the  God  of  the  dead,  but  of  the 
living  :  for  all  live  unto  Him. 


TEXTS  FOR  FUNERAL  DISCOURSES.  331 

Luke  xxii.    33. — Lord,   with  thee  I  am  ready  to  go  both  to 
prison  and  to  death. 

Heb.  ii.  9. — That  by  the  grace  of  God  He  should  taste  death 
for  every  man. 

Rev.  iv.  1. — Come  up  hither,  and  I  will  show  thee  the  things 
which  must  come  to  pass  hereafter. 


MISCELLANY. 


ABOUT  FUNERAL  ADDRESSES. 

BY   PASTOR   RUDOLPH   MULLER. 
[Translated  from  the  German  by  Rev.  G.  F.  Behringer.] 

To  preach  in  Christ's  name  means  to  bear  witness  to  Christ  ;  means 
to  offer  to  the  congregation  a  living  testimony  from  the  converted  heart. 
Thus  the  funeral  address  must  be  a  testimony  of  salvation  in  Christ  ;  it 
will  be,  first  of  all,  a  witness  of  the  faith,  and,  in  the  faith  of  Jesus,  a  testi- 
mony of  our  hope  through  Him.  Without  Jesus  no  salvation,  either  in 
life,  or  in  death,  or  in  eternity  ;  no  salvation  for  the  departed,  none  for 
those  remaining.  And  when  the  newly-made  grave  testifies  of  the  transi- 
tory character  of  all  things  ;  when  sorrow  and  mourning  surround  the 
preacher  ;  when  the  burden  of  grief  rests  like  a  heavy  weight  upon  the 
hearts  ;  when  human  comfort  is  dumb,  or  does  not  avail — at  that  time 
how  elevating  is  it  to  hear  the  preacher  of  the  Gospel  speak  with  joy  upon 
his  lips,  proclaiming  the  grace  of  God  in  Jesus  Christ,  illuminating  the 
gloom  of  the  grave,  lighting  up  also  the  gloom  of  sorrow  through  the  proc- 
lamation of  the  Lord,  who  is  the  resurrection  and  the  life  !  This  is  the 
height  up  to  which  every  funeral  address  must  lead. 

Thus  the  funeral  sermon  is  essentially  a  testimony  for  Christ,  and  a 
confession  of  the  hope  in  Christ  that  is  within  us  ;  and  this  confession  at 
the  grave  exerts  a  mighty  influence  upon  the  heart  not  yet  completely 
hardened.  Nowhere  else  so  striking  as  here,  where  even  the  careless  one 
cannot  resist  serious  thoughts,  does  the  opportunity  present  itself  to  hold 
the  hearts,  and  direct  them  to  the  "one  thing  needful."  Many  a  one 
has,  perhaps  purposely,  gone  out  of  the  way  of  the  Word  of  God  ;  but 
here  he  must  hear  it,  either  for  weal  or  woe.  Many  a  heart  has  grown 
hard  under  the  cares  and  pleasures  of  life,  but  pain  is  a  sharper  plough 
which  loosens  the  earth.  At  this  time  he  is  in  a  receptive  condition  ; 
instinctively  he  longs  for  a  word  of  life  that  may  comfort  him.  Such  an 
opportunity  must  be  utilized.  Let  us  be  mindful  of  our  sacred  obligation 
to  scatter  divine  seed.  Let  us  be  painfully  conscientious  in  funeral  ser- 
mons :  we  shall  be  called  upon  to  give  an  account  of  every  idle  word 
spoken.  To  this  class  belongs  the  useless  word  that  carries  with  it  no 
power  of  life. 


ABOUT  FUNERAL  ADDRESSES.  333 

The  difficulty  of  combining  personal  matters  with  the  treatment  of  the 
text  is  but  an  apparent  one.  For  the  text  should  be  chosen  especially  in 
view  of  the  individuality  of  the  deceased.  Philip  David  Burk  correctly 
says  :  "  The  personal  allusions  are  not  to  be  saved  unto  the  end  of  the 
discourse,  but  in  the  very  beginning  the  impression  is  to  be  made  that 
these  personal  matters  were  in  the  mind  of  the  speaker  during  his  prepa- 
ration for  and  in  his  meditation  upon  the  address."  Emphasizing  the 
personal  (which  was  developed  out  of  the  heathen  "  latidatid")  is  the  most 
original  element  of  the  funeral  address.  We  find  this,  by  way  of  illustra- 
tion, as  thoroughly  violating  all  churchly  dignity  in  the  case  of  the  address 
of  Ephraim  the  Syrian  upon  Basiliusthe  Great.  If  a  distinguished  person 
is  to  be  buried,  possibly  here  or  there  may  be  found  some  one  disposed  to 
lavish  his  praises  extravagantly  in  an  uncalled-for  and  offensive  manner, 
with  a  view  of  pleasing  the  surviving  relatives.  Even  a  common  peasant 
pride,  based  upon  the  money  bags,  demands  at  times  such  praise.  Let 
the  servant  of  the  Church  not  belittle  himself  to  found  the  fame  of  the 
deceased  upon  externals,  or  to  adorn  the  life-picture  of  the  departed  with 
virtues  that  he  never  possessed.  But,  of  course,  that  is  to  be  praised 
that  is  worthy  of  praise — what  we  know  of  him  by  our  own  observation 
and  experience,  or  whatever  may  be  known  in  the  common  experience  of 
the  friends  and  acquaintances  of  the  deceased.  Yet  in  doing  this  we 
should  not  praise  the  dead  in  and  for  himself,  but  for  the  grace  of  God 
which  glorified  itself  in  him,  for  "  through  grace  I  am  that  I  am  ;"  we 
should  not  declare  him  as  saved  because  of  his  works,  but  we  may  hope 
and  pray  for  this  salvation  in  Christ's  mercy  and  as  a  manifestation  of 
grace,  provided  that  the  confession  may  also  be  reported  of  him  :  "  The 
highest  praise  at  my  grave  shall  be  that  I  have  loved  Thee,  Lord  !" 

If  we  did  not  personally  know  the  deceased,  and  if,  after  diligent 
inquiry,  we  cannot  obtain  any  reliable  information,  then  the  greatest 
caution  is  to  be  exercised  in  praise  as  well  as  in  blame.  The  want  of  this 
caution  has  given  many  an  offence.  Even  if  the  clergyman  in  question  is 
innocent  in  a  certain  sense  of  doing  any  injustice,  the  truth  is  expected  of 
him  under  all  circumstances.  And  it  is  very  distressing  when  he  with 
pathos  proclaims  as  truth  and  reality  what  is  the  very  opposite,  and  pre- 
sents the  same  for  our  example  ;  or  when  he  reproves  the  deceased  when 
many  grateful  mourners  honestly  and  sincerely  lament  his  loss.  This 
estranges  the  heart  and  impairs  authority.  Furthermore,  attention  is  to 
be  paid  to  this  point :  only  such  personal  matters  are  to  be  taken  up  and 
considered  as  are  of  any  value  to  Christian  consideration,  only  such  as 
can  be  regarded  from  an  evangelical  point  of  view.  Matters  of  little  con- 
sequence, at  any  rate  such  as  are  of  little  importance  in  the  sight  of  God, 
are  not  to  be  put  into  a  funeral  address.  In  this  respect  the  preacher 
must  regard  his  word  as  too  high  and  holy  to  refer  to  trifles  at  the  grave, 
where  the  breath  of  eternity  touches  us.  It  would  be  sad  indeed  if  he 
had  nothing  important  to  say. 

In  regard  to  the  use  of  personal  matters,  the  text  will  afford  us  the 


334  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

right  measure  to  be  applied.  Let  us  keep  this  steadily  in  view  ;  it  will 
preserve  us  against  errors  and  unnecessary  latitude,  and  will  teach  us  to 
emphasize  only  those  points  the  mention  of  which  will  not  flatter  the 
individual,  but  will  be  of  saving  influence  to  all.  It  is  pleasing  if  we  can 
bestow  praise  and  in  this  way  impress  the  image  of  the  departed  indelibly 
upon  the  memory  of  the  survivors  (e.g.  in  the  case  of  a  father  or  mother). 
Then  the  grave  exerts  an  influence  upon  the  mourners,  and  in  the  case  of 
many  an  erring  one  has  proven  to  be  in  later  years  an  awakening  voice. 

But  how  shall  we  proceed  if,  on  the  other  hand,  the  life-picture  of  the 
deceased  present  dark  spots  ?  It  would  be  wanting  in  tact  and  impru- 
dent did  we  appear  at  the  grave  with  the  lightning  and  thunder  of  Mount 
Sinai.  We  are  servants  of  Christ  who,  with  all  earnestness,  carry  not 
only  the  rod  "  woe,  "  but  also  the  rod  "  easy,"  that  is,  peace.  "This 
one  receives  sinners."  This  is  His  highest  praise.  We  should  not  only 
wound,  we  should  also  heal  ;  and  remember  that  we  preachers  are  not 
infallible.  "  How  seest  thou  the  mote  in  thy  brother's  eye,  and  regardest 
not  the  beam  that  is  in  thine  own  eye  ?"  This  passage  also  will  apply  to 
the  servant  of  the  Word  :  "  Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged."  There  is 
no  man  but  has  some  good  sides  to  his  character  ;  let  us  dwell  upon  these  : 
the  bad  sides  are  known  to  the  people  without  our  telling  them.  And 
why  mention  such  things  when  the  deceased  is  now  standing  before  his 
judge,  perhaps  has  become  reconciled  to  God  through  sorrow  and  repent- 
ance ?  But,  if  nothing  good  whatever  can  be  said  of  the  deceased,  then  it 
would  be  best  to  make  the  address  a  general  one — that  is,  to  speak  of  the 
destroying  influences  of  sin,  the  necessity  of  conversion,  etc.  The  people 
understand  right  well  how  to  read  between  the  lines.  What  must  be  said 
can  be  said  without  offending  any  one  :   there  is  but  tact  needed. 

Let  us  hold  fast  to  this  :  the  funeral  address  shall  be  a  testimony  of  love. 
The  sinner  is  rather  the  object  of  pity  than  of  condemnation.  Sin  is  con- 
demned by  the  Scripture  under  any  and  every  circumstance.  But  the 
sinner  remains  the  object  of  our  love.  If  we  could  know  all  the  secret 
ways  by  which  one  has  gone  to  destruction,  how  many  things  should  we 
find  have  co-operated  to  bring  this  about,  and  which  would  essentially 
modify  our  judgment  !  To  paint  as  light  that  which  is  dark,  we  dare  not 
do.  When  one  has  died  unconverted,  when  he  has  persevered  unto  hard- 
ness in  his  vice,  this  dare  not  be  ignored,  even  for  the  sake  of  those  who 
have  come  out  to  hear.  It  would  mark  the  preacher  with  the  brand  of 
cowardice.  The  more  boldly  he  can  swing  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  the 
better  will  it  be.  Yet  love  must  guide  the  hand,  that  love  which  be- 
wails, which  does  not  condemn  without  mercy.  And  the  sword  must 
not  be  drawn  against  the  deceased  brother,  but  against  his  vice,  especially 
if  this  be  prevalent  in  others  among  the  congregation.  Thus  the  object 
of  the  address  will  be  gained,  and  truth  will  be  honored  without  causing 
offence  or  arousing  bitterness  of  feeling.  The  funeral  address  should  not 
cast  a  shadow  upon  the  deceased,  but  light  from  a  higher  world  upon  the 
life  of  the  living. 


ABOUT  FUNERAL  ADDRESSES.  335 

The  funeral  address  becomes  a  very  difficult  matter  when  the  deceased 
was  a  modern  heathen,  whose  burial  is  nevertheless  demanded  of  the 
Church.  The  Roman  Catholic  Church  simply  ignores  him — that  is,  in  case 
he  ignores  the  Church  up  to  the  last  moment.  But  the  Evangelical 
Church  must  be  tolerant.  Up  to  the  present  time,  whoever  pays  church 
dues  can  demand  a  church  burial.  Such  people,  since  they  led  a  "civil" 
life,  should  receive  a  civil  burial — thus  thinks  the  hot-head.  And  yet,  if 
either  the  departed  or  his  relatives  have  asked  for  a  religious  interment, 
does  not  this  involve  the  confession,  even  if  external  reasons  seem  to 
contradict,  that  the  Church  is  a  power,  and  that  only  a  churchly  burial  hal- 
lows the  ceremony  at  the  grave  ?  And  even  if  the  Church  have  no  power 
or  influence  over  the  dead,  have  not  the  living  been  intrusted  to  her  care 
for  her  to  seek  them,  and,  if  possible,  to  save  them,  and  to  give  them  to 
know  and  to  experience  what  of  reality  there  is  in  the  neglected  salvation 
by  faith  ? 

The  preacher  must  here  honor  the  truth,  and  yet  confess  with  regret 
that  the  eyes  of  the  deceased  were  holden  to  the  treasures  of  the  Church. 
Perhaps  God's  all-seeing  eye  may  have  discerned  elements  of  faith  upon 
the  background  of  the  heart;  perhaps  the  deceased  in  his  secret  hours 
may  have  experienced  an  ardent  desire  for  that  God  whom  he  outwardly 
denied  ;  perhaps  God's  mercy  had  begun  its  work  of  repentance  within 
him  in  a  quiet  but  particular  way,  and  that  He  will  lead  him  up  above  to 
a  fuller  knowledge  of  salvation.  At  any  rate,  we  dare  not  presume  to 
prescribe  bounds  to  God's  mercy,  nor  to  close  heaven  against  any  one, 
small  as  may  be  our  hope  that  God  will  knoiv  one  who  despises  Him 
here.     "  Yet  not  as  man  regardeth,"  etc. 

The  funeral  sermon  ought  to  be,  furthermore,  a  testimony  of  love  to  the 
survivors.  If  the  deceased  did  not  occupy  a  prominent  position  in  life, 
his  special  relation  to  his  relatives  affords  us  sufficient  material.  And 
that  we  are  addressing  mourners  will  also  determine  the  tone  of  our 
remarks.  We  ought  to  be  mindful  of  these  things  in  determining  our 
thoughts. 

Yet  there  are  rocks  even  here.  "  Yes,  it  was  a  beautiful  address  ;  not 
one  eye  that  was  not  bathed  in  tears."  Such  laudation  seems  to  many  a 
one  to  be  the  principal  thing.  He  seems  fairly  to  exhaust  himself  "  to 
drum  upon  the  hearts"  of  the  people,  to  open  the  floodgates  of  tears,  to 
inflict  deep  wounds  that  bleed  right  well.  With  hard-boned  natures  and 
thick-skinned  hearts  this  may  pass.  But  if  there  be  nervously  constituted 
persons  present,  then  fainting  fits  are  unavoidable,  with  accompanying 
disorders,  and  upon  the  educated  such  a  course  produces  the  opposite 
effect  from  that  desired.  "  Weep  with  the  weeping  ones."  This  is  the 
advantage  which  the  older  minister  has  over  the  younger  one,  that  his 
long  experience  indicates  to  him  the  right  tone  and  temper  of  mind  which 
will  re-echo  in  the  wounded  hearts  and  lead  them  to  feel  involuntarily  :  the 
minister  knows  just  how  /feel.  If  the  minister  has  himself  stood  at  the 
grave  of  father  or  mother,  or  of  wife  or  child,  how  differently  will  he  speak 


336  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

from  the  youth  to  whom  life  smiles  through  rosy  glasses  !  Hence  this 
rule  must  be  observed  :  put  yourself  in  the  place  of  the  sorrowing  ones, 
into  their  real  feelings. 

"  The  pastor  remains  untouched:  burying  belongs  to  his  business  !" 
These  are  public  remarks.  We  ought  to  prevent  their  being  made. 
Although  our  natures  may  be  different,  yet  we  must  never  forget  that 
people  look  for  a  warm  heart  under  the  minister's  gown  ;  that  "  the  heart 
makes  the  theologian  ;"  that  not  only  as  ministers  but  as  men  we  speak 
to  men  ;  that  above  all  other  things  love  should  both  develop  and  edify 
faith. 

But  the  chief  thing  is  :  "  Comfort  ye,  comfort  ye  my  people."  This 
cannot  be  too  strongly  emphasized.  The  funeral  sermon  should  be,  above 
all  things,  an  address  of  consolation,  to  stanch  the  weeping  eyes,  to  raise 
up  those  that  are  bowed  down,  that  they  may  pursue  their  journey  with 
new  courage  and  earnestness.  Mere  shedding  of  tears  but  increases  the 
pain  ;  a  passing  impression  lacks  power.  But  to  comfort  in  the  right  way 
is  an  art  that  we  can  learn  only  in  the  school  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  How 
vapid  it  is,  for  example,  if  at  the  burial  of  children  continual  reference  is 
made  to  how  much  the  departed  has  been  delivered  from  ;  that  perhaps  the 
hope  of  salvation  might  have  been  lost  if  he  or  she  had  lived  longer.  In 
reference  to  this,  Palmer  asks  :  "  Why  has  not  God  taken  others  who 
really  fell  into  evil  ways  ?  Is  He  not  unjust  to  these  ?  Or  would  my  child 
really  have  grown  up  as  bad  or  worse  ?  And  as  regards  any  unfavorable 
fate  or  fortune  that  might  have  threatened  the  child — well,  we  adults  also 
have  survived  severe  experiences,  and  with  God's  help  we  have  passed 
through  them  all,  and  enjoy  our  life  in  spite  of  all  afflictions."  The  mere 
preaching  of  woe  and  misery  awakens  no  wholesome  view  of  life,  nor 
arouses  the  necessary  life-courage  ,  it  simply  depresses.  This  is  not  our 
mission,  to  diminish,  if  possible,  our  pain  ;  sorrow  remains  sorrow,  and 
when  it  comes  it  hurts — yes,  it  is  intended  to  hurt.  The  right  comfort  lies 
in  emphasizing  our  faith  in  that  wonderful  Providence,  who,  little  as  we 
understand  His  ways,  yet  doeth  all  things  well  ;  in  that  Saviour  who,  as 
the  eternal  High-priest,  as  our  Saviour,  watches  over  us  and  speaks  to  us  : 
"  Only  believe." 

In  the  next  place,  the  words  of  the  text  are  to  be  applied  as  comfort  to 
the  survivors,  and  in  the  light  of  this  word  death  was  to  the  deceased  not 
a  loss  but  a  gain,  and  to  the  survivors  not  as  the  blow  of  blind  fate,  but  as 
an  expression  of  love  of  an  infallible  divine  wisdom.  Such  afflictions, 
grievous  as  they  sometimes  are,  belong  to  our  education  in  righteousness. 
The  cross  is  a  school ;  as  such  it  must  be  presented.  Through  much  tribu- 
lation runs  the  path  of  life  below,  but  the  end  is  the  kingdom  of  God, 
and  the  end  will  justify  God's  mysterious  leadings  in  Providence.  And 
to  this  comfort  and  consolation  may  very  naturally  be  added  the  admoni- 
tion, which  should  not  be  wanting  in  any  address,  and  which  should  be 
well  used,  according  to  the  special  and  surrounding  circumstances.  "  En- 
ter into  the  strait  gate  ;"  "  Lord,  make  me  to  know  mine  end,"  etc. 


FUNERAL   ETIQUETTE.  337 


With  text  in  hand,  first  a  glance  into  the  grave,  then  above  and  beyond 
the  grave  to  the  heavens,  then  forward  into  life  with  its  tasks  and  duties  ; 
this  is  the  aim  and  object  of  the  funeral  sermon. 

But  there  is  one  essential  matter  that  we  dare  not  overlook  :  God's 
blessing  in  all  things,  even  in  the  ordinary  course  of  our  life,  is  dependent 
upon  "  praying  and  working."  As  to  all  our  sermons,  so  to  the  funeral 
address,  prayer  must  be  added.  The  Lord  must  enlighten  His  servant 
that  he  truly  discharge  his  duties  as  servant  of  the  Lord.  With  praying 
heart  seek  thy  text ;  with  praying  thoughts  apply  thyself  to  the  work  of 
preparation  ;  God  will  give  it  unto  thee,  even  in  difficult  positions,  to  decide 
upon  the  right  matter.  To  His  honor  ought  we  to  speak,  and  we  can 
only  do  this  when  we  first  of  all  accord  to  Him  the  honor,  when  we 
permit  His  spirit  of  peace  to  flow  upon  us,  when  we  permit  ourselves  to 
be  guided  by  His  spirit  of  truth  and  love.  To  God  alone  be  the  glory  :  let 
that  be  the  motto  of  our  funeral  addresses. 


POINTS   OF    ETIQUETTE    IN    FUNERALS. 

The  following  questions  were  addressed  to  a  number  of  leading  clergy- 
men in  New  York  and  Brooklyn.  The  answers  returned  are  given 
below. 

QUESTIONS. 

I.  What  circumstances  will  justify  a  minister's  refusal  to  officiate  at  a 
funeral  ?  (a)  Will  the  fact  that  the  deceased  was  an  unbeliever  ?  or  (6) 
belonged  to  another  church  ?  or  (c)  was  personally  unknown  to  the  min- 
ister ? 

II.  Where  should  the  minister's  direction  of  affairs  cease  and  the 
undertaker's  begin  ? 

III.  Is  it  advisable  for  the  preacher  to  visit  the  house  of  mourning 
immediately  after  the  funeral  ?  If  so,  how  long  should  his  stay  be  ?  If 
not,  how  soon  should  he  make  such  visit? 

IV.  What  do  you  consider  the  best  order  of  exercises  —  singing, 
prayer,  reading,  sermon,  etc.  ? 

V.  What  rule  do  you  observe  with  respect  to  calling  on  other  min- 
isters for  remarks  ? 

VI.  What  do  you  consider  the  most  proper  relative  positions  for 
preacher,  corpse,  and  mourners — (i)  during  the  service  ;  (2)  on  the  way 
out  of  the  church  or  house  ? 

VII.  What  do  you  consider  the  most  objectionable  features  in  modern 
funerals,  and  what  remedy  would  you  suggest  ? 

VIII.  Is  it  proper  for  a  minister  to  receive  compensation  for  officiating 
at  a  funeral  ? 


338  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 


Rev.  G.  F.  Behringer,  Grace  English  Evangelical  Lutheran  Church, 
Brooklyn,  N.  Y.  : 

I.  Insincerity  on  the  part  of  those  inviting,  or  inability  on  the  part  of 
the  minister  to  perform  the  duties  requested.  ('?)  No,  providing  he  were 
not  hindered  from  speaking  the  whole  truth.  (b)  If  the  deceased  had  been 
a  member  of  another  church  it  would  be  necessary  to  investigate  all  the 
facts  involved,  especially  so  as  not  to  give  offence  to  a  brother  minister  ; 
this  is  a  very  important  matter  in  a  small  town  or  village.  (c)  If  the 
deceased  were  personally  unknown  to  the  minister,  he  must,  for  obvious 
reasons,  avoid  personal  allusions. 

II.  If  services  are  concluded  at  the  house,  then  the  minister's  duties 
end  with  the  amen  of  the  benediction.  If  he  accompany  the  remains  to 
the  cemetery,  he  resumes  there,  and  concludes  with  the  final  sentence  of 
the  committal  service.     Then  and  there  his  work  ceases. 

III.  Where  it  is  customary  to  fee  him  for  his  services,  it  makes  it  a 
delicate  matter  to  visit  the  family  again.  Otherwise  he  should  do  so 
within  the  first  week  (not  make  a  long  stay),  with  a  few  words  of  comfort, 
Scripture,  and  prayer. 

IV.  As  to  the  order  of  exercises,  I  would  not  favor  a  stereotyped  form, 
but,  as  a  general  rule  :  singing.  Scripture,  prayer,  singing,  address,  prayer, 
benediction.  As  to  singing,  it  depends  where  and  when  the  services  are 
held.   Unless  appropriate  and  well  rendered,  omit. 

V.  As  to  calling  upon  other  ministers,  I  do  not  do  it,  except  at  the 
request  of  the  family,  for  the  simple  reason  that  I  would  be  held  responsi- 
ble for  his  remarks. 

VI.  If  possible,  (i)  the  minister  at  the  head  of  the  coffin,  the  relatives 
on  the  right,  friends,  etc.  on  the  left  ;  (2)  in  leaving  house  or  church, 
minister,  coffin,  relatives,  friends,  general  crowd. 

VII.  Display  :  mourning  garments,  expensive  coffins,  flowers,  car- 
riages, and  general  fuss  and  feathers.  Also  the  abomination  of  refresh- 
ments, etc.  alter  funerals,  near  the  cemetery.  No  reform  possible  unless 
all  adopt  the  Roman  Catholic  idea  of  refusing  to  serve  if  these  abuses  are 
indulged  in. 


Theodore  L.  Cuyler,  D.D.,  Lafayette  Avenue  Presbyterian  Church, 
Brooklyn,   N.  Y.  : 

I.  No  "  circumstances"  except  such    as  arise   from   previous  engage- 
ments or  physical  impossibilities. 

II.  The  minister  has  charge  of  all  that  properly  belongs  to  the  religions 
service — no  more. 

III.  Common-sense  will  dictate  the  times  of   visits  and  their   duration. 
The  unpardonable  sin  is  neglect. 

IV.  My  usual  order  is  :  Scriptures,  singing,  address,  prayer,  and  some- 
times second  singing. 


FUNERAL   ETIQUETTE.  339 

V.  I  call  on  other  ministers  to  take  just  such  parts  in  the  service  as 
the  family  may  desire  or  request. 

VI.  Nothing  to  say  about  such  trivialities. 

VII.  All  funerals  do  not  have  "  objectionable  features."  Some  are 
made  too  much  a  floral  exhibition,  and  some  are  too  formal  and  ostenta- 
tious. The  services  should  be  brief,  simple,  natural,  tender,  and  devout, 
and  spiritual  in  the  best  sense. 

VIII.  Yes,  if  a  fee  is  offered,  let  it  be  received  (except  from  the  very 
poor)  and  used  for  a  good  object.  To  decline  it  in  most  cases  would 
give  offence.  A  service  for  those  outside  of  a  pastor's  congregation 
often  involves  much  extra  labor,  and  a  "  fee"  is  proper. 


Charles  F.  Deems,  D.D.,  Church  of  the  Strangers,  New  York  : 

I.  A  previous  engagement,  or  the  fact  that  the  hour  of  the  funeral  was 
published  before  the  minister  was  consulted,  will  justify  him  in  declining 
to  officiate.  The  previous  state  and  condition  of  the  deceased  should  have 
nothing  to  do  with  a  Protestant  minister's  decision  in  this  case.  A  funeral 
is  to  him  an  opportunity  of  setting  forth  the  blessed  Gospel  of  the  Son  of 
God,  and  he  should  rejoice  therein.  A  funeral  service  is  held  for  the 
living,  not  for  the  dead.  The  fact  that  the  deceased  was  an  unbeliever,  a 
suicide,  a  murderer,  or  even  a  grogseller,  should  have  nothing  to  do 
with  it.  If  the  deceased  belonged  to  another  church,  the  minister  should 
be  sure  that  the  pastor  of  the  deceased  could  not  attend  the  service,  in 
which  case  he  should  cheerfully  officiate  in  the  place  of  the  absent  pastor. 

II.  The  undertaker  has  general  charge  of  the  funeral.  The  minister 
performs  the  religious  service.  The  undertaker  resumes  charge  when 
the  officiating  minister  requests  him  to  do  so.  Families  should  be  in- 
structed to  employ  the  sexton  of  the  church  the  pastor  of  which  is  to 
officiate.     They  know  each  other's  methods. 

III.  It  is  the  pastor's  duty  to  visit  the  bereaved  family  of  a  deceased 
person  who  had  belonged  to  his  church.  In  general  it  is  advisable  for 
him  to  visit  any  house  of  mourning,  especially  if  he  has  lately  been  called 
thereto  for  service  at  a  funeral.  But  he  must  use  his  discretion.  In  a 
great  city  the  pastor  of  a  large  congregation  can  scarcely  find  time  to 
visit  every  unknown  family  from  which  there  has  been  a  funeral,  espe- 
cially if  he  be  "  popular"  in  this  department  of  work.  A  minister  who  has 
been  wise  and  tender  and  profitable  at  one  funeral  will  probably  make 
for  himself  five  calls  to  other  funerals.  Non-church-going  families  are 
proud  of  having  the  services  of  a  noted  pastor. 

IV.  I  have  seen  no  "  order  of  exercises"  equal  to  that  for  the  burial 
of  the  dead  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church,  a  shortened  form  of 
which  I  always  use.  Funeral  sermons  should  be  delivered  only  in  cases 
in  which  the  character  of  the  deceased  affords  an  opportunity  for  the 
minister  to  make  the  Gospel  more  impressive.  He  should  never  be  asked 
to  preach  such  a  sermon. 


34o  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

V.  I  have  no  rule.  If  the  family  desire  it,  a  visiting  minister  may  be 
requested  to  take  a  part  of  the  exercises.  One  man  in  ordinary  health  is 
sufficient  for  one  funeral,  and  two  ministers  should  never  be  invited  to 
take  charge.     It  complicates  and  embarrasses  matters. 

VI.  I  have  never  thought  of  this  matter  before.  In  our  church  the 
pastor  precedes  and  the"  mourners  follow  the  remains. 

VII.  Several  :  (i)  Taking  the  sexton  from  one  church  and  the  officiat- 
ing minister  from  another.  (2)  Advertising  the  hour  of  the  funeral 
before  consulting  the  minister.  (3)  Failing  to  put  in  the  hands  of  the 
undertaker  in  advance  at  least  half  enough  to  cover  the  expenses.  (4) 
Extravagant  expenditure  for  flowers,  carriages,  etc.,  when  the  family 
have  not  money  in  hand  to  pay  the  bills.  (5)  Exposure  of  the  living  to 
pay  honor  to  the  dead.  Very  often  one  funeral  brings  on  another.  The 
service  should  be  simple,  and  the  rooms  well  ventilated.  Sometimes  in 
broad  daylight  every  crevice  is  closed  and  curtained,  and  the  gas  lighted. 
(6)  The  fussiness  of  some  sextons  in  seating  late  comers  after  the  service 
has  begun. 

VIII.  A  minister  should  never  make  charges  for  funerals,  nor  should 
any  fee  be  tendered  him  by  members  of  his  church.  But  when  people 
■who  have  no  claim  upon  him,  who  contribute  nothing  to  the  support  of 
the  church  and  charities  in  which  he  is  engaged,  occupy  his  time,  employ 
his  talents,  and  expose  his  health,  why  should  not  some  remuneration  be 
made  ?  Why  should  there  not  be  funeral  fees,  if  there  be  marriage  fees  ' 
To  a  sympathetic  man  the  former  is  much  more  wearing.  Nevertheless, 
when  nothing  is  proffered,  the  minister  should  avoid  saying  or  doing  any- 
thing to  show  that  he  expected  remuneration. 


Emory  J.  Haynes,  D.D.,  Washington  Avenue  Baptist  Church, 
Brooklyn,  N.  Y.  : 

I.  None  whatever,  if  he  be  requested,  and  has  no  previous  engage- 
ment. 

II.  The  minister  has  nothing  to  do  save  performing  the  strictly  re- 
ligious part  of  the  service. 

III.  Within  a  few  days— not  delaying  more  than  a  week  at  the  longest 
— he  should  by  all  means  call. 

IV.  Begin  with  "the  Infallible  Word."  Then  sing,  if  it  be  desired. 
Next  go  direct  to  God  in  prayer — better  without  singing  :  it  is  no  place 
for  song,  which  is  always  heart-rending.  Then  kindly,  briefly  speak 
your  human  words  last.     Sing  again,  if  they  will  have  it.     Benediction. 

V.  Never  do,  except  the  afflicted  ask  it. 

VI.  Stand  where  the  living  can  hear.  Enter  a  church  or  depart  from 
it  leading  the  way  before  the  body. 

VII.  The  trick  of  "gloves,"  and  similar  impositions  on  the  part  of 
undertakers  ;  want  of  promptness  ;  prolonged  stay  about  a  chilly  grave  ; 
unseemly  display  of  any  kind. 


FUNERAL   ETIQUETTE.  341 

VIII.   Never.     He  might  properly  receive  travelling  expenses  ;  not  a 
cent  more,  unless  to  refuse  would  wound  the  sore  hearts  that  offer  it. 


J.  O.  Peck,  D.D.,  Hanson  Place  M.  E.  Church,  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.  : 

I.  (a)  Of  course,  when  he  has  a  positive  engagement.  (/>)  When  any 
secret  order,  like  Masons  or  Odd  Fellows,  attempt  to  control  the  ser- 
vices and  make  the  clergyman  and  religious  services  a  mere  tail  to  their 
kite.  These  orders  should  only  hold  their  services  at  the  grave,  (c)  Pe- 
culiar circumstances,  where  self-respect  or  the  honor  of  religion  is  in- 
volved. (</)  I  answer,  No,  to  the  instances  named,  in  the  abstract.  Dis- 
crete circumstances  may  modify  this  general  answer. 

II.  The  undertaker  should  be  limited  to  the  movement  of  the  casket, 
and  possibly  the  direction  of  the  congregation  in  viewing  the  face  of  the 
dead. 

III.  The  visit  of  the  pastor  to  the  house  of  mourning  ordinarily  should 
be  after  the  lapse  of  a  few  days  only,  and  the  time  should  be  governed  by 
his  common-sense.  Above  all,  this  is  the  occasion  for  his  greatest  spiritual 
benefit  to  the  afflicted.  Their  hearts  will  never  be  so  receptive  again, 
and  his  opportunity  never  so  hopeful. 

IV.  Singing,  Scripture  lessons,  address  or  sermon,  prayer,  singing, 
benediction — for  services  in  the  private  house. 

V.  The  pastor  of  the  deceased  should  make  the  only  address,  except  in 
cases  of  an  old  pastor,  or  where  some  particular  relation  of  some  other 
minister  suggests  his  special  fitness. 

VI.  (1)  That  must  be  determined  by  the  shape  and  size  of  the  rooms 
and  other  conditions.    It  is  not  important.    (2)  Preacher,  casket,  mourners. 

VII.  (r)  Sunday's  being  selected  for  the  funeral,  because  greater 
parade  and  numbers  can  be  gained.  Remedy  :  pastors  to  unite  and  give 
notice  that  they  will  not  attend  funerals  on  Sunday,  unless  under  very 
exceptional  circumstances.  (2)  Too  much  fashion,  worldly  pomp,  and 
floral  display.  Remedy  :  more  religion.  (3)  Too  much  crape,  heathen 
gloom,  and  hopeless  sepulchral  paraphernalia.  Remedy  :  more  study  of 
the  New  Testament.  (4)  Relatives  taking  leave  of  the  dead  before  a 
gaping  crowd.  Remedy  :  private  farewells.  (5)  Too  much  gush,  senti- 
ment, eulogy,  and  indiscriminate  admission  of  all  deceased  persons  into 
heaven,  by  ministers.  Remedy :  more  significant  silence  at  times  ; 
more  exemption  from  being  the  echo  of  what  the  friends  like  to  have 
said  ;  more  fear  of  God.  (6)  Reading  the  same  funeral  service  from  a 
Liturgy  over  saint  and  sinner,  in  which  both  are  equally  perfumed  with 
piety. 

VIII.  (1)  Never,  in  his  own  parish  or  among  the  poor.  (2)  Never  to 
demand  it  as  the  condition  of  his  services.  (3)  But  when  families  of 
other  churches,  or  who  support  no  minister,  and  thus  have  no  claim  upon 
him,  demand  his  services,  often  for  hours,  they  ought  to  have  the  decent 
honesty  to  make  some  compensation  for  his  time  and  service.     In  short, 


342  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

ministers  ought  not  to  demand  compensation,   but   outsiders   ought   to 
tender  it. 


0.  H.  Tiffany,  D.D.,  Madisrm  Avenue  M.  E.  Church,  New  York  : 

1.  Nothing  but  absolute  inability  to  attend.  The  facts  suggested  con- 
cerning the  deceased  are  reasons  for,  not  against,  officiating. 

II.  At  the  close  of  the  religious  service. 

III.  Not  unless  personally  intimate  with  the  family.  The  next  day  a 
brief  visit,  or  a  longer  call  in  a  day  or  two  ;  but  certainly  a  call  within 
a  week. 

IV.  Prayer,  Scripture  reading,  and  a  brief  address  (but  it  would  be 
better  to  omit  this)  ;  singing  when  specially  desired  and  provided  for  by 
family,  or  suggested  by  the  circumstances  of  the  deceased. 

V.  Only  invite  those  who  have  been  pastorally  connected  with  the  de- 
ceased. 

VI.  In  a  church  this  first  matter  regulates  itself  ;  in  a  private  house 
the  mourners  should  be  near  the  corpse,  the  minister  located  where  he 
can  best  be  heard.  On  the  way  out  of  the  church  or  house,  the  minister 
always  should  go  first,  the  bearers  following,  and  the  mourners  in  the 
order  of  their  nearness  in  relationship. 

VII.  Fussy  undertakers.  Remedy  :  make  them  understand  that  you 
have  charge  during  the  religious  service  ;  after  that  they  cannot  be  re- 
strained. 

VIII.  Any  minister  may  receive  a  gift,  but  no  one  should  exact  pay- 
ment, as  of  a  debt. 


J.  M.  Sherwood,  D.D.,  Presbyterian,  Brooklyn  : 

I.  No,  nothing  but  sickness,  distance,  engagement,  or  something  ex- 
traordinary in  the  circumstances,  making  the  case  exceptional,  would 
justify  a  refusal. 

II.  This  is  a  delicate  point,  and  no  rule  can  be  safely  laid  down.  It  must 
depend  greatly  on  the  custom  prevailing  in  the  community.  What  might 
be  proper  and  best  in  the  city,  might  not  be  in  the  country.  One  thing, 
however,  the  officiating  clergyman  should  assert  any  and  every  where, 
quietly,  but  firmly — viz.,  that  he  alone  is  the  sole  and  absolute  judge  as  to 
the  character  and  time  allowed  for  the  religious  part  of  the  funeral  service. 
The  regulation  of  the  ceremonial  and  businessvpart  pertains  to  the  under- 
takers, or  whoever  has  been  chosen  by  the  friends  to  have  the  "  charge" 
of  the  funeral.  With  that  the  minister  has  nothing  to  do,  and  equally 
the  man  of  "  ceremony"  has  no  right  in  any  way  or  degree  to  interfere  with 
the  servant  of  God  in  the  exercise  of  the  proper  functions  of  his  holy 
office.  He  owes  a  duty  to  his  Master,  to  himself,  and  to  the  friends  who 
have  invited  or  who  have  a  right  to  claim  his  sympathy  and  instruction  on 
so  sad  and  solemn  an  occasion,  which  it  would  be  the  height  of  impudence 
or  impertinence  in  any  undertaker  whose  convenience  or  business  views 


FUNERAL   ETIQUETTE.  343 

might  conflict,  to  interfere  with  in  any  way.  My  course  always  has  been, 
where  practicable,  to  confer  in  advance  with  "  the  master  of  ceremonies," 
and  come  to  a  definite  understanding,  so  that  there  should  not  be  any 
conflict,  or  any  jar  in  the  order  of  service. 

III.  Yes  ;  call  the  moment  he  hears  of  the  death,  if  the  deceased  person 
or  the  family  belonged  to  his  congregation.  Endeavor  to  have  a  word 
with  the  family  just  before  the  funeral  service  begins.  And  call  as  soon 
after  the  funeral  and  as  frequently  as  the  time  of  the  pastor  and  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  family  may  seem  to  demand,  of  which  of  course  every 
man  must  be  his  own  judge. 

IV.  Depend  on  circumstances  :  how  much  time  is  allowed  for  the  ser- 
vice, and  the  surroundings,  and  the  wishes  of  the  family,  which  should  be 
consulted.  My  order  would  be  to  read  first  select  portions  of  Scripture  ; 
remarks,  or  brief  sermon,  governed  by  circumstances  ;  prayer  and  sing- 
ing, if  desired  or  thought  best. 

V.  The  friends  should  be  consulted  on  this  point.  Often  they  wish  a 
particular  ministerial  friend  or  friends  to  take  part.  If  left  to  the  discre- 
tion of  the  officiating  clergyman,  courtesy  and  propriety  would  prompt 
me  to  invite  any  brother  minister  present,  whom  I  had  reason  to  believe 
was  not  objectionable  to  the  relatives,  to  assist  me  in  some  minor  part  of 
the  service. 

VI.  This  must  depend  largely  on  the  place  of  the  funeral.  If  in  a 
church,  that  fact  settles  the  question.  If  in  a  private  house,  the  position 
of  the  minister  must  be  governed  by  the  size  and  arrangement  of  the 
house  and  the  attendance.  I  have  officiated  at  many  funerals  where  the 
dead,  the  friends,  and  the  audience  were  all  crowded  into  a  single  room. 
In  such  cases  I  took  my  stand  by  the  head  of  the  coffin.  If  the  friends 
and  audience  are  all  on  the  same  floor,  the  right  position  of  the  speaker 
is  where  he  has  the  best  command  of  his  hearers,  irrespective  of  other 
considerations.  The  prevalent  custom  to-day  (a  most  infelicitous  one)  is 
for  the  family  and  friends  to  gather  on  the  second  floor,  out  of  sight  both 
of  speaker  and  of  the  main  audience  below  ;  in  which  case  the  only  posi- 
tion of  the  preacher  is  on  the  stairs  in  the  hall,  subject  to  drafts  and  constant 
interruption  of  people  coming  in,  and  forced  to  speak  chiefly  to  two  high 
walls  closing  him  in. 

As  to  the  order  of  procession  on  leaving  the  church  or  house,  my  own 
habit  is  to  precede  the  coffin  uncovered,  and  stand  by  the  carriage  till  the 
chief  mourners  enter,  and  then  take  the  lead  of  the  procession  to  the 
place  of  burial,  the  hearse  and  pall-bearers  following,  then  the  friends, 
and  lastly  the  public.  Some  ministers  excuse  themselves  from  attend- 
ance at  the  burial  ;  but  it  seems  to  me  heartless.  The  friends  feel  it 
keenly.  Is  it  not  eminently  fitting  that  the  minister  of  religion  should 
stand  with  the  mourners  by  the  open  grave  and  officially  commit  "ashes 
to  ashes,  dust  to  dust,"  and  then  and  there,  in  that  supreme  moment  of 
grief,  ring  out  the  words  of  Him  who  is  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life  ? 

VII.  The  show  and  extravagance  are  the  most  objectionable  fcatu-es. 


344  PULPIT  AND   GRA  VE. 

They  have  reached  a  point  absolutely  intolerable,  at  which  public  senti- 
ment begins  to  revolt.  Fashion  has  run  to  riot  over  the  dead,  and  the 
funeral  ceremony  been  turned  into  a  heartless  and  showy  and  costly 
pageant.  It  has  been  a  very  carnival  for  florists,  undertakers,  and  liv- 
eries !  The  cost  is  a  terrible  tax  on  multitudes.  And  the  elements  of 
pageantry  which  enter  into  the  scene  are  in  sorry  keeping  with  aching 
hearts  and  solemn  thoughts.  The  only  remedy  for  the  evil  is,  mainly,  in 
the  hands  of  the  rich — the  higher  classes.  If  they  will  set  the  example  of 
reform  in  the  way  of  floral  display,  costly  caskets,  a  long  array  of  car- 
riages, and  extravagant  mourning  outfit,  it  will  be  speedily  followed  by 
the  public  ;  and  millions  of  dollars  will  be  saved  annually  to  those  who 
can  ill  afford  the  present  outlay.  A  movement  is  just  begun  that  prom- 
ises good  results — viz.,  to  have  the  funeral  services  at  the  house  in  the 
evening,  and  the  burial  a  private  one,  at  the  convenience  of  the  family. 
This  course  will  lessen  the  motive  for  display,  and  cutoff  a  large  item  of 
expense,  in  the  city  at  least. 

VIII.  Clearly,  if  the  funeral  is  outside  of  his  congregation,  and  those 
tendering  it  are  abundantly  able  ;  otherwise  not,  in  either  case.  If  it  were 
a  "  wedding"  service,  no  one  would  hesitate  to  accept  a  fee  ;  why  should 
he  decline  a  reasonable  offering  ?  Funerals  are  a  very  heavy  tax  upon 
a  minister's  time,  sympathy,  and  bodily  health,  and  where  they  occur 
among  those  who  have  no  claim  upon  him  other  than  that  of  our  common 
humanity  and  religion,  he  is  clearly  entitled  to  pay.  Seldom,  however, 
does  he  get  it.  In  a  long  ministry,  the  writer  has  in  only  three  instances 
been  tendered  anything  ;  and  yet  in  several  cases  he  has  spent  an  entire 
day  in  journeying  to  and  from  the  house  of  death  and  the  grave,  and 
that  in  storm  and  cold  of  intense  severity,  and  at  the  request  of  entire 
strangers,  and  those  in  good  circumstances.  Still,  I  would  not  decline  to 
go  for  such  a  reason  ;  nor  would  I  ask  for  a  dollar. 


A.  C.  Wedekind,  D.D.,  St.  John's  Lutheran  Church,  Brooklyn,  N.Y.  : 
I.  Viewing  the  amplified  points  of  this  question  as  objective  truths, 
there  can  be  but  one  answer  given  to  them,  and  that  is,  that  there  are  no  cir- 
cumstances at  all  that  will  justify  such  a  refusal.  But  the  answers  will  large- 
ly be  given  from  a  subjective  standpoint,  and  will  therefore  depend,  to  some 
extent,  upon  the  ministers  themselves.  If,  for  example,  a  minister  is 
called  in  the  supposed  case  (unbeliever),  and  he  must  rely  exclusively  upon 
a  stereotyped  form,  originally  designed  for  Christian  burial  only,  and 
cannot  adapt  himself  or  his  form  to  circumstances,  then  he  is  fully  justified 
to  refuse  officinting  at  such  a  funeral.  For  his  "  form,"  however  "  beau- 
tiful," would  be  a  shocking  travesty  on  funeral  rites.  So  is  any  other 
minister,  with  or  withont  a  form,  whose  conceptions  of  funeral  services 
reach  no  higher  and  embrace  no  more  than  a  mere  eulogy  of  the  departed 
one.  He  is  certainly  justified  in  refusing  to  officiate  at  such  a  funeral,  be- 
cause he  has  no  ground  at  all  on  which  to  stand. 


FUNERAL  ETIQUETTE.  345 

But  the  minister  who  regards  a  call  to  a  funeral  in  the  light  of  a  provi- 
dence, summoning  him  to  serve  his  Master  by  instructing  the  living,  and 
thus  "sowing  beside  all  waters,"  will  rarely  regard  these  specifications 
as  a  sufficient  cause  for  the  refusal  of  his  service.  And  for  the  simple 
reason  that  he  has  to  do  with  the  living,  and  not  -with  the  dead. 

II.  Where  each  understands  and  minds  his  own  business,  there  can  be 
no  difficulty  in  "  the  direction  of  affairs"  at  funerals;  and  where  neither 
has  this  requisite  knowledge,  it  would  be  next  to  impossible  to  prescribe 
rules.  One  principle,  however,  is  always  applicable  to  ministers  at 
funerals,  and  that  is,   "  Possess  ye  your  souls  in  patience." 

III.  About  the  advisability  of  a  minister's  visiting  the  house  of  mourning 
after  the  funeral,  there  can  be  no  question.  Where  God  has  entered 
with  His  special  providence,  God's  ministers  should  enter  with  a  view  of 
improving  that  providence.  Such  afflictions  are  eminently  calculated  to 
soften  the  heart.  God  meant  that  they  should.  On  no  occasion  does 
He  approach  us  so  closely  or  speak  to  us  so  personally.  God  has  applied 
to  the  family  in  question  his  highest  effort  of  compassion,  His  reserved 
agency  of  means  with  which  to  gain  its  members  to  His  service.  That 
family  is  in  a  most  critical  condition.  .  It  will  come  out  of  this  furnace 
either  hardened  or  softened.  And  it  may  largely  depend  on  these 
pastoral  visits  which  it  shall  be. 

The  mere  accidents  of  this  question,  as  to  "  how  soon"  or  "how  long" 
should  such  visits  be,  are  of  small  account,  and  may  be  safely  left  to  the 
discretion  of  each  minister.  My  own  practice  ordinarily  is  to  pay  my 
first  visit  within  a  week  after  the  funeral.  I  think  it  best  to  suffer  the 
family  to  settle  into  a  calmer  mood  after  the  harrowing  scenes  through 
which  they  have  passed. 

IV.  If  at  church,  I  commence  writh  a  short  invocation,  followed  by  sing- 
inf,  Scripture  lesson,  prayer,  sermon,  prayer,  interment  service,  benedic- 
tion. If  at  the  house,  I  usually  commence  with  a  prayer,  repeat  the  text 
from  memory,  and  then  make  my  remarks  as  strictly  textual  as  possible. 
This  gives  variety  and  freshness  to  each  service,  prevents  the  repetition 
of  stale  platitudes,  and  forestalls  giving  unnecessary  offence,  since  it  is 
not  the  minister  but  God's  word  that  reproves,  rebukes,  exhorts,  and  com- 
forts.    I  then  close  with  prayer,  the  interment  service,  and  benediction. 

V.  In  this  matter  I  am  mainly  governed  by  the  wishes  of  the  family. 

VI.  Wherever  it  is  at  all  possible,  I  consider  that  the  most  natural  and 
therefore  the  most  proper  relative  position  at  funerals  is  where  the  corpse, 
preacher,  and  mourners  can  be  in  one  room.  At  church,  that  is  the  posi- 
tion as  a  matter  of  course,  and  it  should  be  so  at  the  private  house. 
Fashion  has  sadly  altered  this.  The  corpse  stands  in  the  midst  of  stran- 
gers ;  the  preacher  is  stationed  somewhere  on  the  stairs,  to  talk  against 
blank  walls,  and  the  mourners  are  hid  away  up-stairs  !  This  is  style 
— modern  style.  God  pity  the  style  !  The  blessed  Master  stood  face  to 
face  with  the  weeping,  widowed  mother,  whilst  speaking  words  of  com- 
fort to  her  sorrowing  heart.     He  stood  near  the  bier,  touched  it— yea,  took 


346  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 


the  hand  of  the  dead  young  man  while  He  spoke  His  mighty  words  of 
help.  He  held  familiar  intercourse  with  Martha  and  Mary  ;  He  was  not 
hustled  away  from  the  corpse,  but  taken  to  it. 

Going  out  of  the  house  or  church,  the  preacher  should  precede  the 
corpse,  and  the  mourners  immediately  follow  it. 

VII.  One  word  will  answer  that  question:  an  indecent  st>ug«le  for  dis- 
play. Funerals  have  been  taken  out  of  the  sacred  precincts  of  private  grief, 
and  become  the  occasions  of  public  shows.  This  insane  struggle  pervades 
all  ranks,  from  the  top  to  the  bottom  of  society.  It  is  a  crying  evil  and 
a  crushing  weight  on  those  not  ranked  with  the  rich.  "  What  remedy 
would  you  suggest?"  That's  a  conundrum  I  give  up.  I  know  of  but 
one  remedy — viz.,  a  revival  of  humility  and  of  Christian  propriety  among 
the  leaders  of  society,  and  then  an  earnest  following  of  all  ranks. 

VIII.  If  any  be  offered,  no  one  should  hesitate  to  receive  it,  since  in  most 
cases  it  is  not  regarded  as  a  compensation — a  qui<i  pro  quo — but  rather  as 
a  grateful  recognition  of  the  services  rendered.  In  hardly  any  case  can 
the  reception  of  such  a  present  be  improper,  but  in  very  many  instances 
it  would  be  right  to  demand  compensation.  Where  the  party  served,  for 
example,  has  no  claim  upon  the  minister's  time,  is  in  no  way  connected 
with  his  church,  perhaps  with  no  church,  is  "well  to  do  in  the  world," 
why  should  a  minister  be  debarred  from  receiving  a  proper  compensation 
for  his  labor  ?  Why  should  he  be  at  all  expected  to  give  his  labor  for 
nothing  under  such  circumstances  ?  Neither  the  physician  that  attended 
the  departed  one,  nor  the  lawyer  that  wrote  his  will,  is  expected  to  give 
his  time  and  labor  for  nothing;  why  should  the  minister?  Here  is  an 
illustration  :  I  visited  a  sick  man  twice  a  week  for  five  years.  He  was 
not  a  member  of  my  church,  but  boarded  with  one  of  my  families.  Each 
visit  took  at  least  two  hours,  and  in  bad  weather  necessitated  a  change  of 
cars.  The  time  devoted  to  him  per  week  was  four  hours,  or  a  legal  half 
day's  work,  equal  to  twenty-five  days  a  year,  making  in  all  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  days  ;  deducting  for  vacations,  etc.,  one-fifth,  would  leave 
one  hundred  days  devoted  to  this  man.  Each  visit  cost  me  ten  cents  for 
car  fare,  or  eighty  cents  per  month,  making  nine  dollars  and  sixty  cents 
a  year,  or  forty-eight  dollars  in  all  ;  but  deducting  as  above  one-fifth, 
would  leave  a  cash  outlay  in  car  fare  of  thirty-eight  dollars  and  forty 
cents.  The  man  died,  and  I  had  to  bury  him.  He  had  a  respectable 
library,  and  left  an  estate  valued  at  thirty  thousand  dollars.  His  brother, 
a  warden  in  a  church,  and  president  of  a  fire-insurance  company  in  this 
city,  was  considerate  enough  to  send  me,  from  the  deceased  man's  library, 
an  English  copy  of  Luther  s  Commentary  on  the  Ga/atiaus,  with  the  follow- 
ing note  accompanying  it :  "  Phase,  sir,  accept  this  book  as  a  slight  token 
of  our  apprec'ation  of  your  kind,  long-continued,  and  invaluable  services 
rendered  to  our  departed  brother,  and  believe  us  to  be,  yours,  etc.,  in 
behalf  of  the  family."  As  I  had  already  a  Latin,  two  German,  and  an 
English  copy  of  this  excellent  work,  I  returned  the  book  and  note  to  this 
appreciative  and  pious  warden,  which  closed  this  interesting  affair.     The 


WORDS  FROM  THE  DYING.  347 

man  that  would  controvert  the  propriety  of  receiving,  or  even  demanding 
compensation — a  thing  which  I  have  never  done — under  such  circum- 
stances, is  just  the  man  that  has  no  experience  in  such  work,  and  is, 
therefore,  practically  disqualified  to  give  a  proper  opinion  in  the  case. 


WORDS  FROM  THE  DYING. 

Jetemiah  Evarts. — "  Glory  !  Jesus  reigns." 

John  Wesley. — "  The  best  of  all  is,  God  is  with  us." 

Rev.  A.  C.  Hall,  missionary  to  Ceylon.  — "  I  triumph." 

Joint  Adams. — "  Thomas  Jefferson  still  survives." 

Mrs.  Anna  Cordcnx. — "  Lord,  thou  art  mine,  and  I  am  thine." 

Jonathan  Edwa>ds. —  "  Trust  in  God,  and  jou  have  nothing  to  fear." 

John  Quincy  Adams. — "  This  is  the  last  of  earth.     I  am  content." 

James  D.  Burns. — "  I  have  been  dying  for  years  :  now  I  shall  begin 
to  live." 

Thomas  Jefferson. — "  I  resign  myself  to  my  God,  and  my  child  to  my 
country." 

Mrs.  Mary  Wilcock. — "  I  have  a  long  journey  before  me  ;  but  I  dare 
follow  my  guide." 

Alexander  Hamilton. — "  I  have  a  tender  reliance  on  the  mercy  of  God 
in  Christ." 

Rev.  Alfred  Cook/nan. — "I'm  sweeping  through  the  gates,  washed  in 
the  blood  of  the  Lamb." 

Rev.  A.  C.  Waugh,  D.D. — "  Reward  !  Do  not  speak  of  reward.  I  am 
going  to  receive  mercy,  mercy  !  " 

Melanchthon,  in  reply  to  the  question  if  he  would  have  anything. — 
"  Nothing  but  heaven." 

Dr.  Edward  Payson. — "  The  battle  is  fought  !  the  battle  is  fought  !  and 
the  victory  is  won  forever  !" 

Keats,  the  poet,  in  response  to  the  question,  "  How  do  you  feel?" — 
"  Better,  my  friend  ;  I  feel  the  daisies  growing  over  me." 

Voltaire,  to  his  physician.  — "  I  will  give  you  half  of  what  I  am  worth, 
if  you  will  give  me  six  months  of  life." 

Hobbes,  the  infidel  philosopher. — "  If  I  had  the  whole  world  to  dispose 
of,  I  would  give  it  to  live  one  day." 

Lady  Huntingdon.  —  "I  am  encircled  in  the  arms  of  love  and  mercy. 
I  long  to  be  at  home  !     Oh,  I  long  to  be  at  home  !" 

Theodore  Parker. — "  Oh  that  I  had  known  the  art  of  life,  or  found 
some  book,  or  some  one  had  taught  me  how  to  live." 

Rev.  Augustus  M.  Toplady,  writer  of  "  Rock  of  Ages." — "The  sky  is 
clear  ;  there  is  no  cloud.     Come,  Lord  Jesus,  come  quickly  !" 

Zachary  Taylor.  — "  I  am  ready  for  the  summons.  I  have  endeavored 
to  do  my  duty.     I  am  sorry  to  leave  my  friends." 


348  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

George  Washington. — "I  find  I  am  dying;  my  breath  cannot  last  long.'1' 
Again,  "  Doctor,  I  die  hard,  but  I  am  not  afraid  to  go." 

Gibbon,  the  historian,  a  sceptic. — "  The  present  is  a  fleeting  moment, 
the  past  is  no  more,  and  my  prospect  of  futurity  is  dark  and  doubtful." 

Joint  Mason,  a  royal  favorite. — "  Were  I  to  live  again,  I  would  change 
the  whole  life  I  have  lived  in  the  palace  for  an  hour's  enjoyment  cf  God 
in  the  chapel." 

Philip  III.,  King  of  Spain.  — "  Ah  !  how  happy  it  would  have  been  for 
me  had  I  spent  these  twenty-three  years  I  have  held  my  kingdom,  in 
retirement." 

Ziegenbalger,  the  missionary. — "Washed  from  my  sins  in  the  blood  of 
Christ,  and  clothed  with  His  righteousness,  I  shall  enter  into  His  eternal 
kingdom." 

Rev.  John  Mishke. — "Oh,  wretched  philosophy,  how  much  would  thy 
comforts  fail  in  the  circumstances  I  now  am  in  !  But,  Jesus,  thou  art 
still  my  Jesus  !" 

Altamont. — "  Oh  time,  time,  how  art  thou  fled  forever  !  A  month  !  oh, 
for  a  single  week.  I  ask  not  for  years,  though  an  age  were  too  little  for 
the  much  I  have  to  do." 

Daniel  Webster,  a  few  days  before  his  death,  dictated  the  following  as 
an  inscription  for  his  tombstone:  "Lord,  I  believe;  help  thou  my 
unbelief." 

Andrew  Jackson. — "  My  sufferings,  though  great,  are  nothing  in  com- 
parison with  those  of  my  dying  Saviour,  through  whose  death  I  look  for 
everlasting  happiness." 

Dr.  Janeway,  the  eminent  clergyman. — "  Oh,  my  friends,  we  little 
think  what  Christ  is  worth  on  a  death-bed.  I  would  not  now  for  a  world, 
nay,  for  millions  of  worlds,  be  without  Christ  and  pardon." 

Grotius,  the  historian. — "Ah  I  have  consumed  my  life  in  a  labori- 
ous doing  of  nothing.  I  would  give  all  my  learning  and  honor  for  the 
plain  integrity  of  John  Urick" — a  poor  man  of  eminent  piety. 

Richard  Baxter,  author  of  "Saint's  Rest." — "God  might  justly  con- 
demn me  for  the  best  deeds  I  ever  did,  and  all  my  hopes  are  from  the  free 
mercy  of  God  in  Christ."     Again,  "  I  am  almost  well." 

Rev.  John  Adams. — "  No  clouds  now  darken  my  prospect,  no  doubts 
disquiet  my  mind  ;  a  perfect  peace  and  tranquillity  fill  the  heart,  and  a 
hope  of  glorious  immortality  gladdens  the  soul." 

Salmasius,  one  of  the  greatest  scholars  of  his  times.  — "  Oh,  I  have  lost  a 
world  of  time — time,  the  most  precious  thing  on  the  earth,  whereof  if  I 
had  but  one  year  more,  it  should  be  spent  in  David's  Psalms  and  Paul's 
Epistles.     Oh  !  mind  the  world  less,  and  God  more." 

Dr.  Rivet,  speaking  of  his  suffering. — "  This  little  cloud  hides  not  from 

me  the  light   of  heaven  ;    it  shines  in  my  soul Grace  upon  grace  ! 

Oh  what  a  lovely  chain  !     It  is  a  golden  chain.     There  is  no  more  than 
the  last  link  of  it  to  be  finished  in  me." 

Lord  Cliesierjield,  a  sceptic.  —  "  When  I  reflect  upon  what  I  have  seen, 


CURIOUS  FACTS.  349 


what  I  have  heard,  and  what  I  have  done  myself,  I  can  hardly  persuade 
myself  that  all  the  frivolous  hurry  and  bustle  and  pleasure  of  the  world  are 
a  reality  ;  but  they  seem  to  have  been  the  dreams  of  restless  nights." 

Duke  of  Buckingham,  after  a  life  of  folly  and  sin. — "Oh!  what  a 
prodigal  have  I  been  of  the  most  valuable  of  all  possessions — lime  !  I  have 
squandered  it  away  with  the  persuasion  that  it  was  lasting  ;  and  now, 
when  a  few  days  would  be  worth  a  hecatomb  of  worlds,  I  cannot  flatter 
myself  with  the  prospect  of  half  a  dozen  hours." 

A  Dying  Nobleman.—  11  Good  God  !  how  have  I  employed  myself !  In 
what  delirium  has  my  life  been  passed  !  What  have  I  been  doing  while 
the  sun  in  its  race  and  the  stars  in  their  courses  have  lent  their  beams, 
perhaps  only  to  light  me  to  perdition  !  I  have  pursued  shadows,  and 
entertained  myself  with  dreams.  I  have  been  treasuring  up  dust,  and 
sporting  myself  with  the  wind.  I  might  have  grazed  with  the  beasts  of 
the  field,  or  sung  with  the  winged  inhabitants  of  the  woods,  to  much  bet- 
ter purpose  than  any  for  which  I  have  lived." 


CURIOUS  FACTS  CONCERNING  FUNERAL  RITES. 

The  Mohammedans  bury  without  a  coffin  of  any  kind. 

The  rudest  method  of  burial  was  to  lay  the  corpse  on  the  ground  and 
pile  stones  upon  it. 

The  custom  of  burying  the  dead  with  the  head  and  feet  pointing  east 
and  west  used  to  be  nearly  universal. 

The  Greenlanders  bury  with  a  child  a  dog,  to  guide  it  in  the  other 
world,  saying,  "  A  dog  can  find  his  way  anywhere." 

The  Norseman  had  horse  and  armor  interred  in  his  grave,  that  he 
might  ride  to  Valhalla  in  full  panoply. 

The  music  continuously  kept  up  at  the  Irish  wakes  used  to  be  for  the 
purpose  of  warding  off  evil  spirits. 

The  Chippewas  lighted  fires  on  the  grave  for  four  nights  to  guide  the 
soul  in  its  journey. 

The  early  Christians  avoided  the  use  of  the  word  death,  using  instead 
such  expressions  as  "  Sleep  in  Christ,"  "  Rest  in  God,"  etc. 

The  Mexicans  gave  slips  of  paper  to  the  dead,  as  passports  to  take  them 
safely  by  cliffs,  serpents,  and  crocodiles. 

The  Russians  place  in  the  hand  of  the  corpse  a  paper  certificate  of  the 
character  of  the  deceased,  to  be   shown  to  Peter  at  the  gate  of  heaven. 

The  natives  of  Dahomey  kill  a  slave  from  time  to  time,  that  he  may 
carry  to  the  departed  news  from  the  living. 

The  Fijians  strangled  wives,  slaves,  and  even  friends  of  the  dead,  that 
his  spirit  might  not  be  unattended. 

In  India  the  devoted  wife  ascended  her  husband's  funeral  pyre  and 
perished  in  the  flames. 


PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 


Certain  tribes  in  Guinea  throw  their  dead  into  the  sea,  thinking  thus  to 
rid  themselves  of  both  body  and  ghost. 

The  Parsees  carry  their  dead  to  round  towers,  where  they  are  left  to 
the  vultures  that  make  their  nests  therein. 

At  Dahomey  the  body  of  a  person  killed  by  lightning  is  hacked  into 
pieces,  which  the  priests  pretend  to  eat. 

Some  tribes  of  Mexicans  bury  their  children  by  the  wayside,  that  their 
souls  may  enter  into  the  persons  passing  by. 

The  Colchians  suspended  the  corpses  of  the  men  from  trees,  in  order  to 
dry  them  preparatory  to  burial. 

The  Todas  of  India  burn  all  their  dead  except  the  victims  of  infanticide, 
whom  they  bury. 

The  Australians  tie  the  hands  of  the  corpse  and  extract  the  finger  nails, 
that  the  dead  may  not  scratch  his  way  out  of  the  grave. 

The  Badages  of  the  Nilgherry  Hills,  in  India,  release  at  the  grave  a 
scapegoat,  which  is  supposed  to  bear  away  the  sins  of  the  dead. 

The  negroes  of  Guinea  preserved  the  bones  of  their  deceased  friends 
in  chests,  which  from  time  to  time  they  opened  to  hold  converse  with  the 
dead. 

The  Siberians  fling  a  hot  stone  after  the  corpse  as  it  is  taken  to  the 
grave,  and  the  Brandenburg  peasants  empty  after  it  a  pail  of  hot  water,  to 
prevent  the  spirit's  return. 

The  Dyaks  of  Borneo  made  head-hunting  the  principal  business  of 
life,  believing  that  they  would  be  served  in  the  life  to  come  by  all  whose 
heads  they  secured. 

The  North  American  Indians  buried  with  the  corpse  a  kettle  of  provi- 
sions, bow  and  arrows,  and  moccasins,  with  pieces  of  deerskin  and 
sinews  of  deer  for  the  purpose  of  patching  the  moccasins. 

The  Hawaians,  upon  the  death  of  a  king,  feign  universal  madness,  and 
commit  all  manner  of  crimes,  even  murder,  to  indicate  that  their  grief 
has  driven  them  frantic. 

In  Wales,  at  one  time,  "sin-eaters"  were  employed  to  eat  a  loaf  of 
bread  above  the  grave,  thereby,  as  was  supposed,  taking  upon  themselves 
the  sins  of  the  deceased. 

The  Chinese  scatter  paper  counterfeits  of  money  on  the  way  to  the 
grave,  that  the  evil  spirits  following  the  corpse  may,  by  delaying  to 
gather  them,  remain  in  ignorance  of  the  locality  of  the  grave.  They  also 
scatter  in  the  wind,  above  the  grave,  paper  images  of  sedan-bearers  and 
other  servants,  that  they  may  overtake  the  soul  and  act  in  its  service. 

The  Egyptians  turn  the  corpse  around  several  times  before  coining  to  the 
grave,  to  make  it  giddy,  in  order  that  the  ghost  may  be  unable  to  find 
its  way  back  to  torment  the  living.  For  the  same  reason  the  Green- 
landers  take  the  corpse  out  of  the  house  by  a  window,  instead  of  by  a 
door  ;  and  the  Siamese  make  a  new  opening  in  the  wall,  through  which 
the  corpse  is  carried,  and  then  borne  three  times  around  the  garden. 
The  Greeks  sometimes  buried  and  sometimes  burned  their  dead.    They 


CURIOUS  FACTS.  351 


anointed  the  body,  dressed  it  in  white,  crowned  it  with  flowers,  and  placed 
an  obolus  in  the  mouth  to  pay  Charon  for  passage  over  the  Styx,  and  a 
honey-cake  with  which  to  appease  the  watchdog  Cerberus.  The  kins- 
folk gathered  around  it,  as  it  lay  in  state,  and  lamented,  tearing  their  hair 
and  clothes.  Before  sunrise  on  the  third  day  it  was  carried  out  in  an 
earthen  coffin,  men  walking  before  it,  women  behind.  It  was  buried  out- 
side the  town,  and  a  monument  with  inscription  was  raised  over  the 
grave.  All  present  at  the  funeral  services  had  to  be  purified  before 
allowed  in  a  temple.  On  the  third,  ninth,  and  thirteenth  days  after 
burial,  sacrifices  were  offered. 

In  the  Roman  empire  the  body  was  invariably  burned,  being  prepared 
by  the  hired  pollinctores.  On  the  eighth  day  the  body  was  carried, 
dressed  in  the  best  apparel  that  could  be  afforded,  to  the  crematory.  In 
the  procession  the  sons  of  the  deceased  went  veiled,  and  the  women  beat 
their  breasts.  Sometimes  professional  players  gave  a  representation  of 
the  merits  and  deeds  of  the  deceased.  As  the  corpse  burned,  oil,  per- 
fumes, spices,  and  ornaments  were  thrown  into  the  fire.  The  attendants 
afterward  purified  themselves  by  sprinkling  with  water  or  stepping  over  a 
fire.  Mourning  ended  on  the  ninth  day  with  a  sacrificial  feast  and 
gladiatorial  combats. 

Among  the  Mohammedans  the  body  is  usually  buried  on  the  day  of 
death.  Male  relatives  precede  the  funeral  procession,  and  are  themselves 
preceded  by  four  or  six  old  men,  generally  blind,  chanting  the  profession 
of  faith,  and  are  followed  by  the  same  number  of  schoolboys  chanting 
poetical  passages  descriptive  of  the  last  judgment.  Behind  the  corpse 
come  the  female  relatives,  wailing  and  eulogizing  the  dead,  assisted  by 
hired  tambourine  women.  If  the  deceased  were  rich,  camels  follow  the 
procession,  with  provisions  to  be  distributed  at  the  grave  among  the  poor, 
a  buffalo  follovving  last,  to  be  slaughtered  at  the  grave  for  the  same  pur- 
pose. The  priest,  or  imim,  officiating  at  the  grave,  calls  for  testimony 
concerning  the  character  of  the  dead,  when  those  present  respond,  "  He 
was  of  the  virtuous."  After  the  body  is  laid  in  the  tomb  it  is  instructed 
in  the  answers  to  such  questions  as  "Who  is  God?"  "Who  is  His 
Apostle?"  which  the  angels,  it  is  supposed,  will  ask. 

In  ancient  Egypt  the  funeral  rites  were  most  elaborate.  The  body  was 
embalmed,  and  often  kept  in  the  house  for  a  year,  feasts  from  time  to 
time  being  held  in  its  honor.  In  the  funeral  it  was  taken  to  the  sacred 
lake  of  the  nome,  and  on  the  shore  forty-two  judges  were  summoned 
to  pass  judgment  on  the  life  of  the  deceased,  any  one  being  allowed  to 
make  accusations.  If  tb.2  verdict  were  unfavorable,  burial  was  refused 
for  a  length  of  time  proportioned  to  the  magnitude  of  the  crimes.  If  the 
verdict  were  favorable,  a  gold  or  silver  plate  was  placed  in  the  mouth  of 
the  corpse,  as  a  certificate  of  good  character  ;  the  body  was  taken  in  a 
boat,  and  carried  to  the  other  side  of  the  lake  by  a  boatman  called  Charon, 
and  there  buried. 

Some  of  the  more  marked  changes  in  funeral  rites  made  under  the  in- 


352  PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 

fiuence  of  the  Christian  religion  were  :  Hired  mourners  were  forbidden  ; 
cremation  disappeared  from  Europe  ;  the  preparation  of  the  body  was 
done  by  friends  as  a  labor  of  love  ;  the  funeral  took  place  by  day,  as 
significant  of  victory  ;  the  branches  of  cypress  carried  by  the  Romans  in 
funeral  processions  gave  place  to  palm  and  olive  branches,  the  symbols 
of  victory  and  peace  ;  at  the  grave  the  last  kiss  of  peace  was  given  by 
the  priest  and  friends. 


APPROPRIATE  HYMNS  FOR  FUNERAL  SERVICE. 

Abide  with  me,  fast  falls  the  eventide. — Lyte. 

Asleep  in  Jesus  !  blessed  sleep  ! — Mrs.  Mackay. 

Beautiful  valley  of  Eden. — Cushing. 

Beyond  the  smiling  and  the  weeping,  I  shall  be  soon. — Bonar. 

Blessed  hope  that  in  Jesus  is  given. — W.  W.  D. 

By  thy  birth  and  by  thy  tears. — Grant. 

Calm  on  the  bosom  of  thy  God. — Mrs.  Hemans. 

Come,  ye  disconsolate,  where'er  ye  linger. — Moore. 

Deem  not  that  they  are  blest  alone. — Bryant. 

Down  life's  dark  vale  we  wander. — Bliss. 

Fade,  fade,  each  earthly  joy. — Mrs.  Bonar. 

Forever  with  the  Lord.  —Montgomery. 

Gliding  o'er  life's  fitful  waters. — Fannie  Crosby. 

Gone  to  the  grave  is  our  loved  one.  —  Anon. 

He  leadeth  me,  O  blessed  thought  ! — Gilmore. 

Home  at  last  on  heavenly  mountains.  —  Sankey. 

How  blest  the  righteous  when  he  dies  ! — Mrs.  Barbauld. 

I  am  waiting  for  the  morning. — Irvin. 

I  have  heard  of  a  land  far  away.  —  Cushing. 

I  have  read  of  a  beautiful  city. — Atchison. 

I  know  that  my  Redeemer  lives. — C.  Wesley. 

I  know  not  the  hour  when  my  Lord  will  come. — P.  P.  Bliss. 

I  need  thee  every  hour. — Mrs.  Hawes. 

In  my  Father's  home  there  is  many  a  room. — Pierson. 

In  the  Christian's  home  in  glory. — Harmer. 

In  the  silent  midnight  watches. — Coxe. 

It  is  not  death  to  die. — Bethune. 

I've  found  a  joy  in  sorrow. — Jane  Crewdson. 

I've  reached  the  land  of  corn  and  wine. — Page. 

I  would  not  live  alway. — Muhlenberg. 

Jerusalem  the  golden. — Neals. 

Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul. — C.  Wesley. 

Jesus  wept ;  those  tears  are  over. — Denny. 

Light  after  darkness,  gain  after  loss. — Frances  Havergal. 

Lead,  kindly  Light,  amid  the  encircling  gloom. — Newman. 


APPROPRIATE  HYMNS.  353 

Look  away  to  Jesus.  —Burton. 

My  faith  looks  up  to  thee. — Palmer. 

My  heavenly  home  is  bright  and  fair. — Hunter. 

My  Jesus,  as  thou  wilt. — Miss  Borthwick. 

Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee. — Sarah  Adams. 

Oh  for  the  peace  that  floweth  as  a  river. — Anon. 

Oh  !  safe  to  the  rock  that  is  higher  than  I. — Cushing. 

Oh,  think  of  the  home  over  there. — Huntington. 

Oh  !  to  be  over  yonder  ! — Florence  Armstrong. 

Oh,  where  shall  rest  be  found  ? — Montgomery. 

One  sweetly  solemn  thought. — Phcebe  Cary. 

On  Jordan's  stormy  banks  I  stand. — Stennett. 

Only  a  little  while. — Mrs.  Crozier. 

Only  waiting  till  the  shadows  are  a  little  longer  grown. — Frances  Mace. 

Rise,  my  soul,  and  stretch  thy  wings. — Seagrave. 

Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me. — Toplady. 

Safe  in  the  arms  of  Jesus. — Fanny  Crosby. 

Saviour,  more  than  life  to  me. — Fanny  Crosby. 

Shall  we  gather  at  the  river  ? — Lowry. 

Shall  we  meet  beyond  the  river? — Hastings. 

Silently  the  shades  of  evening. — C.  C.  Cox. 

Sun  of  my  soul,  thou  Saviour  dear. — Keble. 

There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight. — Watts. 

There's  a  beautiful  land  on  high. — Nicholson. 

There's  a  land  that  is  fairer  than  day. — Bennett. 

There's  alight  in  the  valley  once  shrouded  by  darkness. — Anon. 

The  sands  of  time  are  sinking. — Mrs.  Cousin. 

The  way  is  dark,  my  Father. — Cobb. 

Thou  art  gone  to  the  grave,  but  we  will  not  deplore  thee. — Heber. 

Through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  I  must  go. — P.  P.  Bliss. 

'Twill  not  be  long,  our  journey  here. — Fanny  Crosby. 

Unveil  thy  bosom,  faithful  tomb. — Watts. 

Vital  spark  of  heavenly  flame.  —  Pope. 

We  are  waiting  by  the  river.— Mary  Griffin. 

We  are  waiting,  Jesus,  waiting. — Palmer. 

We're  going  home,  no  more  to  roam. — Paulina. 

We  shall  meet  beyond  the  river. — Atkinson. 

We  shall  sleep,  but  not  forever. — Mrs.  Kidder. 

We  speak  of  the  land  of  the  blest. — Mrs.  Mills. 

What  a  Friend  we  have  in  Jesus  !  —  Anon. 

What  tho'  clouds  are  hovering  o'er  me  ! — Hattie  Conrey. 

When  my  final  farewell  to  the  world  I  have  said. — P.  P.  Bliss. 

When  shall  we  meet  again? — A.  A.  Watts. 

When  the  mists  have  rolled  in  splendor. — Anon. 

When  we  get  home  from  our  sorrow  and  care. — Gabriel. 

While  with  ceaseless  course  the  sun. — Newton. 


354 


PULPIT  AND    GRA  VE. 


Who  are  these  arrayed  in  white  ?—  C.  Wesley. 
With  tearful  eyes  I  look  around. — Charlotte  Elliott. 


SCRIPTURE  READINGS. 


Readings  of  any  length  and  of 
by  each  pastor  to  suit  himself,  out 

Admonition. 

Job  xiv.  1-22. 
Job  xxxiv.  12-21. 
Psalm  xxxix.  4-13. 
Psalm  xc.  1-12. 
Ecclesiastes  i.  2-1 1. 
Ecclesiastes  iii.  1-22. 
Ecclesiastes  viii.  6-13. 

1  Thessalonians  v.  1-10. 

Consolation. 

Psalm  xviii.  1-6. 
Psalm  xxiii.  1-6. 
Psalm  xlii.  1-11. 
Psalm  xci.  1-15. 
Psalm  cvii.  8-21. 
Psalm  cxxi.  1-8. 
John  xiv.  1-31. 

2  Corinthians  iv.  6-18. 
2  Corinthians  v.  1-10. 

Death  of  Children. 

2  Samuel  xii.  15-23. 
Ecclesiastes  xii.  1-8,  13,  14. 
Isaiah  xl.  6-8. 

Matt,    xviii.    1-6,    10-14 ;  xix. 
13-15. 


almost  endless  variety  may  be  made 
of  the  texts  on  pages  298-331. 

Heaven. 

Rev.  v.  1-14. 

Rev.  vii.  9-17. 

Rev.  xiv.  1-3  ;    xv.  2-4. 

Rev.  xxi.  1-27. 

Rev.  xxii.  1-7. 

Resurrection. 

John  v.  24-29. 

John  xx.  1-1S. 

Romans  viii.  9-24. 

1  Cor.  xv.   20-28  ;  35-58. 

I  Thess.  iv  :  13-1S. 

Trust. 

Job  xxiii.  1-10. 
Psalm  xx.  1-9. 
Psalm  xxvii.  i,  4-14. 

Miscellaneous. 

Job  iii.  17-26. 
Job  xii.  9-22. 
Psalm  xxv.  14-22. 
Psalm  cxliii.  4-1 1. 
John  vi.  27-58. 
John  xvii.  1-5. 


PRACTICAL  HINTS. 

1.  Be   on    hand   punctually.      Overwrought  nerves  can  ill  bear  any 
anxiety  over  your  delay. 

2.  There  is  no  other  occasion  where  the  sensibilities  are  so  awakened. 
Delicacy  and  tact  in  the  highest  degree  are  demanded. 

3.  Consolations  drawn  from  Scripture  are  of  much  more  value  than 
those  drawn  from  any  other  source. 


PRACTICAL    HINTS.  355 

4.  "  Search  the  Scriptures"  before  the  service,  and  mark  the  passages 
you  wish  to  use,  so  that  you  can  find  them  at  once.  Awkward  pauses 
greatly  detract  from  the  impressiveness  of  the  service. 

5.  At  such  a  time  the  hardest  heart  is  more  or  less  susceptible.  It  may 
be  the  one  chance  of  a  lifetime  to  turn  it  to  Christ. 

6.  Very  often  little  or  no  time  is  given  the  preacher  for  preparation. 
He  should  prepare,  particularly  if  he  be  a  young  preacher,  for  such  an 
emergency  ;  a  sermon  or  two  made  ready  beforehand  may  save  him 
many  embarrassments. 

7.  Remarks  particularly  adapted  to  each  occasion  are  always  expected, 
are  most  effective,  and  should  never  be  lacking.  The  life  of  the  deceased, 
the  circumstances  of  the  death,  the  friends  bereaved,  are  always  topics  of 
interest. 

8.  Be  brief.  Funeral  occasions,  especially  when  held  in  a  private 
house,  are  always  trying  :  nerves  are  on  a  severe  tension  ;  the  house  is 
usually  crowded  ;  many  are  in  uncomfortable  positions. 

9.  Be  subdued.  Avoid  anything  startling  in  word  or  voice  or  gesture. 
Any  attempt  at  a  mere  display  of  oratory  is  almost  insufferable. 

10.  Do  not  try  to  awaken  too  deep  an  emotion.  Some  preachers  seem 
to  think  the  success  of  an  address  is  in  direct  proportion  to  the  number  of 
tears  started.     Your  business  is  to  calm  emotion. 

11.  A  preacher  who  does  not  feel  sympathy  on  such  an  occasion  will 
probably  have  little  success  in  affecting  it. 

12.  Do  not  be  too  persistent  or  officious  in  offering  consolation  to  the 
bereaved,  or  expect  to  allay  grief  by  merely  arguing  about  it. 

13.  The  truth  has  as  strong  claims  upon  you  by  the  side  of  the  dead  as 
anywhere  else.  Avoid  extravagant  eulogy  while  not  withholding  merited 
praise. 

14.  Your  chief  aim  should  be  to  strengthen  and  comfort  the  living,  not 
to  bewail  or  eulogize  the  dead. 

15.  Control,  not  repress,  your  own  emotions.  You  who  are  to  sup- 
port others  should  support  yourself. 

16.  "  Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged."  It  is  too  true  that  "  the  evil 
that  men  do  lives  after  them  ;  the  good  is  oft  interred  with  their  bones." 
The  preacher  ought  not  to  strengthen  such  a  tendency.  It  must  be  a 
most  desperate  case  if  there  is  nothing  good  he  may  truthfully  say  of  the 
deceased. 


APPROPRIATE  POEMS  FOR  QUOTATION  AND  READING. 

A  Dirge. — Mrs.  Hemans. 

Adonais. — Shelley. 

At  a  Funeral. — Heber. 

Babe  Christabel. — Gerald  Massey. 

Ballad  of  Babie  Bell.— Aldrich. 


356  PULPIT  AND    GRAVE. 

Beyond  the  Veil.— Vaughan. 

Burial  of  the  Dead. — Keble. 

Cowper's  Grave. — Mrs.  Browning. 

Death  in  Arabia  ("  He  who  died  at  Azan"). — Edwin  Arnold. 

Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard. — Gray. 

Hamlet's  Soliloquy. — Shakespeare  (Hamlet — Act  iii.  Scene  i). 

Hymn  to  Death. — Bryant. 

In  Memoriam. — Tennyson. 

Lalla  Rookh  (line  278  seq.). — Moore. 

Lycidas. — Milton. 

Ode  :  Intimations  of  Immortality. — Wordsworth. 

Oh  may  I  join  the  choir  invisible. — George  Eliot. 

Over  the  river  they  beckon  to  me. — Nancy  Priest. 

Resignation. — Longfellow. 

Thanatopsis. — Bryant. 

The  Conqueror's  Grave. — Bryant. 

The  Deathbed. — Hood. 

The  First  Snowfall  (on  the  death  of  a  child). — Lowell. 

The  Grave. — Blair. 

The  Hour  of  Death. — Mrs.  Hemans. 

The  Reaper  and  the  Flowers. — Longfellow. 

The  Sleep. — Mrs.  Browning. 

The  Two  Angels. — Longfellow. 

The  Two  Voices.— Tennyson. 

Threnodia  (on  the  death  of  an  infant  boy). — Lowell. 

To  Bear,  to  Nurse,  to  Rear. — Mrs.  Hemans. 


THE  CARNAGE  OF  WAR. 

In  his  "  Vindication  of  Natural  Society,"  published  in  1756,  Edmund 
Burke,  the  English  statesman,  makes  the  following  rough  estimate  of 
the  number  of  lives  sacrificed  in  war,  as  far  as  history  gives  us  any 
knowledge  on  the  subject  : 

Lives  Lost. 

In  the  expedition  of  Sesostris  out  of  Egypt,           .  .         1,000,000 

In  wars  of  Semiramis  against  India,           .         .         .  3,000,000 

In  wars  of  Persians  against  Greeks  and  Scythians,  .         4,000,000 

In  wars  of  Alexander  the  Great,         ....  1,200,000 

In  wars  between  Alexander's  successors,       .         .  .         2,000,000 

In  the  wars  of  Greece,         ......  3,000,000 

In  the  wars  of  Sicily,        .......  2,000,000 

In  wars  of  Grsecia  Magna,  prior  to  Roman  dominion,  1,000,000 

In  wars  at  the  beginning  of  the  Roman  Empire,     .  .        2,000,000 

In  Punic  wars,             3,000,000 


CARNAGE   OF   WAR. 


357 


In  wars  between  Rome  and  Mithridates, 

In  wars  waged  by  Julius  Caesar, 

In  conquest  of  Judea  and  destruction  of  Jerusalem, 

In  conquest  of  Spanish  America, 


Lives  Lost. 
1,000,000 
1,200,000 
2,000,000 
10,000,000 


In  all  the  wars  of  the  world  (rough  estimate),  .         36,000,000,000 

Since  the  above  estimate  was  made,  the  following  wars,  among  others, 
have  been  prosecuted:  The  Seven  Years' War  (1756-63);  French  and 
Indian  War,  in  part  (1754-59)  ;  American  Revolution  (1775-81)  ;  French 
Revolution  (17S9-95)  ;  Napoleonic  wars  (1796-18 14)  ;  War  of  1812  (1812- 
15);  war  between  United  States  and  Mexico  (1846-47)  ;  Crimean  War 
(1854-56) ;  Mutiny  in  India  (1857)  ;  war  between  France  and  Italy 
(1859)  ;  American  Rebellion  (1861-65)  !  Franco-German  War  (1870-71)  ; 
Russo-Turkish  War  (1877-78). 


TEXTUAL  INDEX. 


PAGE 

Numbers  xxiii  :  10.     Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  etc 269 

Deuteronomy  xxxii  :  49,  50.     Get  thee  up  into  this  mountain,  etc 279 

Deuteronomy  xxxiv  :  1-5.      And  Moses  went  up   from  the  plains  of  Moab  unto  the 
mountain  of  Nebo.  ...  So  Moses,  the  servant  of  God,  died  there  in  the  land  of 

Moab,  according  to  the  word  of  the  Lord 94 

Joshua  i  :  n.     Prepare  you  victuals,  for  within  three   days   ye  shall   pass   over   this 
Jordan 277 

1  Samuel  xx  :  18.     Thou  shalt  be  missed  because  thy  seat  will  be  empty 275 

2  Samuel  i  :  19.     How  are  the  mighty  fallen  ! 13 

2  Samuel  iii  :  38.     Know  ye  not  that  there  is  a  prince  and  a  great  man  fallen  this  day 

in  Israel? 123 

1  Kings  vii  :  22.     Upon  the  top  of  the  pillars  was  lily  work 250 

1  Kings  xx  :  28.     The  Lord  is  God  of  the  hills,  but  he  is  not  God  of  the  valleys 271 

2  Kings  iv  :  26.     Is  it  well  with  the  child  ?  and  she  answered,  It  is  well 276 

2  Kings  vi  :  17.     Behold,  the  mountain  was  full  of  horses  and  chariots  of  fire 271 

Job  v  :  26.     Thou  shalt  come  to  thy  grave  in  a  full  age,  like  as  a  shock  of  corn  cometh 

in  in  his  season 232 

Job  vii  :  6.     My  days  are  swifter  than  a  weaver's  shuttle 268 

Job  xiv  :  14.     If  a  man  die,  shall  he  live  again  ? 202 

Job  xxiv  :  22.     No  man  is  sure  of  life 270 

Job  xxxvii  :  21.     Men  see  not  the  bright  light  which  is  in  the  clouds 270 

Psalm  xvi  :  11.     In  thy  presence  is  fulness  of  joy 251 

Psalm  xxxv  :  14.     I  bowed  down  heavily  as  one  that  mourneth  for  his  mother 66,  245 

Psalm  xc  :  12.     So  teach  us  to  number  our  days,  that  we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto 

wisdom 207,  218,  267 

Proverbs  i  :  25,  26.    Because  ye  have  set  at  naught  all  my  counsel.  ...  I  also  will  laugh 

at  your  calamity,  etc 265 

Ecclesiastes  iii  :  2.     A  time  to  die 164 

Ecclesiastes  xii  :  2.     The  clouds  return  after  the  rain 271 

Ecclesiastes  xii  :  6.     Or  ever  .  .  .  the  golden  bowl  be  broken 270 

Isaiah  iii  :  1-3.      Behold   the   Lord  .  .  .  doth  take  away    from   Jerusalem   and   from 

Judah  the  stay  and  the  staff,  etc 190 

Isaiah  xxxviii  :  16.     O  Lord,  by  these  things  men  live,  and  in  all  these  things  is  the  life 

of  my  spirit 194 

Isaiah  xl  :  6-8.     The  voice  said,  Cry  ;   and  he  said,  What  shall  I  cry?     All  flesh  is 

grass,  etc 265 

Isaiah  li  :  n.     The  redeemed  of  the  Lord  shall  return  .     .  .  and  sorrow  and  mourning 

shall  flee  away 244 

Isaiah  Ivii  :  1.     The  righteous  perisheth  and  no  man  layeth  it  to  heart 273 

Jeremiah  xv  :  9.     Her  son  is  gone  down  while  it  was  yet  day 264 

Jeremiah  xlviii  :  17.     How  is  the  strong  staff  broken  and  the  beautiful  rod  ! 270 


360  TEXTUAL  INDEX. 

PAGE 

Lamentations  iii  :  33.     Though  He  cause  grief,  yet  will  He  have  compassion,  etc 223 

Daniel  iv  :  17.      This   matter  is    by  the  decree  of  the  watchers  .  .  .  that  the  living 

may  know  that  the  Most  High  ruleth  in  the  kingdom  of  men 123 

Amos  iv  :  12.     Prepare  to  meet  thy  God 247 

Amos  v  :  8.     Seek  Him  that  .  .  .  turneth  the  shadow  of  death  into  the  morning 275 

Amos  viii  :  9.     I  will  cause  the  sun  to  go  down  at  noon 270 

Jonah  iv  :  7.      God  prepared   a  worm  when  the  morning  rose  the  next   day,  and   it 

smote  the  gourd  that  it  withered 277 

Matthew  xvii  :  3,  4.     There  appeared  unto  them  Moses  and  Elias  talking  with  Him, 

and  Peter  answered,  etc 276 

Matthew  xxv  :  46.     And  these  shall  go  away  into  everlasting  punishment 133 

Matthew  xxvi  :  8.     To  what  purpose  is  this  waste  ? 272 

Luke  viii  :  52.     All  were  weeping  and  bewailing  her,  but  He  said,  etc 274 

Luke  xxiii  :  43.     To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise 275 

Luke  xxiv  :  5,  6.     Why  seek  ye  the  living  among  the  dead?     He  is  not  here,  but  is 

risen 266 

John  xi  :  23.     Thy  brother  shall  rise  again 271 

John  xi  :  25.     I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life,  etc 259,273 

John  xi  :  28.     The  Master  is  come  and  calleth  for  thee 230 

John  xiii  :  7.     Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  him,  What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now, 

but  thou  shalt  know  hereafter 198,  254 

John  xiv  :  1,  2.     Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled :  ye  believe  in  God,  etc 272 

John  xix  :  41.     And  in  the  garden  a  new  sepulchre 270 

Acts  xx  :  24.     But  none  of  these  things  move  me,  neither  count  I  my  life  dear  unto 

myself,  etc 79 

Acts  xxvi  :  8.     Why  is  it  judged  incredible  with  you  if  God  doth  raise  the  dead  ? 279 

Romans  viii  :  10,  n.     If  Christ  be  in  you,  the  body  is  dead  because  of  sin,  but  the 

Spirit  is  life,  etc 226 

Romans  xiii  :  11.     Now  is  our  salvation  nearer  than  when  we  believed 260 

1  Corinthians  iii  :  21 ,  22.     All  things  are  yours  :  whether  .  .  .  life  or  death 278 

1  Corinthians  xiii  :  12.     Now  we  see  through  a  glass  darkly 235 

1  Corinthians  xv  :  18.     They  also  which  are  fallen  asleep  in  Christ 274 

1  Corinthians  xv  :  20.     Now  is  Christ  risen  from  the  dead,  and  .become  the  firstfruits 

of  them  that  slept 256 

1  Corinthians  xv  :  26.     The  last  enemy  that  shall  be  destroyed  is  death 37 

1  Corinthians  xv  :  44.     It  is  sown  a  natural  body  ;  it  is  raised  a  spiritual  body 274 

1  Corinthians  xv  :  54.     When   this    corruptible    shall    have   put  on   incorruption  .  .  . 

death  is  swallowed  up  in  victory 272 

1  Corinthians  xv  :  55-57.   O  death,  where  is  thy  sting?    O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory? 

The  sting  of  death  is  sin,  etc 186,  228 

1  Corinthians  xv  :  56,  57.     The  sting  of  death  is  sin,  and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law  ; 

but  thanks  be  to  God,  etc 181 

2  Corinthians  ii  :  14.    Thanks  be  to  God  which  always  causeth  us  to  triumph  in  Christ.  167 
2  Corinthians  v  :  6.     Knowing  that  whilst  we  are  at  home  in  the  body  we  are  absent 

from  the  Lord 237 

Galatians  iii  :  1.     Before  whose  eyes  Jesus  Christ  hath  "been  evidently  set  forth 268 

Philippians  i  :  21.     For  to  me  to  live  is  Christ,  and  to  die  is  gain 215,  271 

Philippians  i  :  23,  24.     But  I  am  in  a  strait  betwixt  the  two,  having  a  desire  to  depart, 

etc 221 

1  Thessalonians  iv  :  13.      I  would  not  have  you  to  be  ignorant,  brethren,  concerning 

them  which  are  asleep,  etc 102,  176 

Hebrews  ii  :  15.     And  deliver  them  who  through  fear  of  death  were  all  their  lifetime 

subject  to  bondage 255 

Hebrews  vi  :  20.     Whither  the  forerunner  is  for  us  entered,  even  Jesus,  made  an  high 

priest,  etc 257 

Hebrews  ix  :  27.     It  is  appointed  unto  men  once  to  die 52,  211 


TEXTUAL  INDEX.  361 


PAGE 

Hebrews  ix  :  27,  28.  And  as  it  is  appointed  unto  men  once  to  die,  but  after  this  the 
judgment :  So  Christ  was  once  offered,  etc 31 

Hebrews  xii  :  10.  For  they  verily  for  a  few  days  chastened  us  after  their  own  pleas- 
ure, but  He  for  our  profit,  etc 113 

James  iv  :  14.    For  what  is  your  life  ? 248,  273 

1  Peter  iv  :  7.     The  end  of  all  things  is  at  hand  :  be  ye  therefore  sober  and  watch  unto 

prayer 263 

2  Peter  1  :  14.     The  putting  off  of  my  tabernacle  cometh  swiftly,  etc 270 

Revelation  iii  :  n.     Behold,  I  come  quickly 234 

Revelation  iii  :  12.  Him  that  overcometh  will  I  make  a  pillar  in  the  temple  of  my  God.  250 
Revelation  xiv  :  13.  I  heard  a  voice  from  heaven  saying  unto  me,  Write,  etc.... 252,  272 
Revelation  xxi  :  25.     For  there  shall  be  no  night  there 239 


INDEX    OF    SUBJECTS. 


A. 

Aaron,  149  seq. 
Abel,  162. 

Accident,  Death  by,  30;. 
Acquiescence  in  bereavement,  276. 
Adams,  John,  347. 
Adams,  Rev.  John,  348. 
Adams,  J.  Q.,  347. 
Admonition,  310,  336. 
Affliction,  223  seq.,  230,  290. 
Altamont,  54,  61,  348. 
Anger  of  God,  117. 
Aspirations,  203. 
Australians,  350. 

B. 

Badages,  of  India,  330. 

Baxter,  Richard,  60,  348. 

Bereavement,  The  national,  94  seq. 

Blandina,  93. 

Bolingbroke,  Lord,  202. 

Bowl,  The  golden,  270. 

Boyle,  Robert,  29. 

Blessed  dead,  The,  252  seq. 

Brevity  of  life,  207  seq.,  219. 

Buckingham,  Duke  of,  55,  61,  349. 

Burns,  J.  D.,  347. 

Byron,  206. 

c. 

Cain,  162. 

Call,  The  Master's,  in  affliction,  230  seq. 

Change,  82  ;  in  funeral  rites,  351. 

Changing,  The,  and  the  changeless,  265. 

Character,  Strength  and  beauty  in,  250. 

Chastisements,  Divine,  113  seq. 

ChesterfieUl,  Lord,  54,  61,  348. 

Childhood,  147. 

Children,  160,  235  seq.,  262,  274  ;  death  of, 

306,  336. 
Chinese,  350. 
Chippewas,  349. 


Christ,  and  immortal  life,  257;  comforting 
mourners,  272  ;  consolation  in,  31  seq.  ; 
destroyer  of  death.  43  seq.,  255  ;  resurrec- 
tion of,  256,  266  ;  length  of  the  life  of,  282. 

Christians,  Death  of,  89  seq.,  215  seq., 
226,  228  seq.,  269,  272,  275,  278,  283  seq., 

3i7- 
Colchians,  350. 
Comfort  in  death,  144. 
Conde,  Prince  of,  172  seq. 
Confessions  of  dying  men,  52  seq. 
Consolation  for  the  bereaved,  301. 
Constancy,  86. 
Cookman,  Rev.  Alfred,  347. 
Cordeux,  Mrs.  Anna,  317. 
Corn,  Shock  of,  232. 
Cross,  The,  132. 

D. 

Dahomey,  natives  of,  349  seq. 

Daughter,  Death  of  an  only,  153  seq. 

Davies,  President,  Mother  of,  107. 

Dead,  The  forgotten,  273  ;  the  glorified, 
272  ;  Voice  of  the,  179  seq. 

Death.  31  seq.,  37  seq.,  89  seq.,  m,  125, 
131,  164  seq.,  181  seq.,  186  seq.,  193,  216, 
222,  234  seq.,  264,  270,  271,  273,  274,  283 
seq.  ;  in  the  prime  of  life,  270. 

Despondency,  177. 

Display  at  funerals,  338  seq. 

Distrust,  176. 

Dog,  Th'*  Master's  shepherd,  167  seq. 

Doubt,  183. 

Duelling,  13  seq. 

Dyaks  of  Borneo,  350. 

Dying,  142. 

Dying  men,  Confessions  of,  52  seq. 

Dying,  Words  from  the,  347. 

E. 
Earth,  221. 

Edwards,  Jonathan,  60,  347. 
Egyptians,  202,  350  seq. 


364 


INDEX  OF  SUBJECTS. 


Eleazar,  149. 

Emotions  of  a  saint  in  heaven,  251. 

Eternal  life,  270. 

Eternity,  Preparation  for,  263. 

Etiquette  at  funerals,  337. 

Evarts,  Jeremiah,  347. 

Evarts,  Jonathan,  60. 

Exhortation,  310. 


Facts,  Curious,   concerning  funeral  rites, 

349- 
Faith,  79  seq.,  146,  183,  200,  220,  236. 
Fatherhood  of  God,  114  seq. 
Fear  of  death,  184,  255. 
Fees  for  officiating  at  funerals,  338  seq. 
Fidelity,  150. 
Fijians,  349. 

Friends,  Death  of,  102  seq. 
Funeral  addresses,  141  seq.,  332. 

G. 

Genius  and  Christianity,  29. 

Gibbon,  348. 

God,  Meeting,  247  seq. 

Goths,  203. 

Gourd,  The  withered,  277. 

Grave,  74  seq.,  186. 

Greatness,  Human,  126  seq.,  172. 

Greeks,  350. 

Greenlanders,  349. 

Grotius,  55  seq.,  348. 

Growth  in  grace,  232  seq. 

Guiltiness,  182. 

Guinea,  350. 

H. 
Hall,  Rev.  A.  C  ,  347. 
Hamilton,  Alexander,  13  seq.,  347. 
Harrison,  President,  124  seq. 
Hawaians,  350. 

Heaven,  151,  158,  222,  260,  289,  323. 
Heavenly  world,  The,  239. 
Hindoos,  202. 
Hints,  Practical,  354. 
Hobb^s,  347. 
Home,  70  seq. 

Home,  Going,  to  heaven,  244. 
Honors,  149. 
Hooker,  Richard,  58. 
Huntington,  Lady,  347. 
Hymns  for  funeral  service,  352. 

I. 

Idolatry,  176. 

Immortality,  201  seq.,  257  seq.,  323. 

India,  349. 


Indians,  North  American,  350. 

Infidelity,  170. 

Influence,  161. 

Irish  wakes,  349. 

Irving,  Washington,  191  seq. 

J. 

Jackson,  Andrew,  348. 
Janeway,  57,  348. 
Jefferson,  Thomas   347. 
Johnson,  Dr.  Samuel,  58. 
Jordan,  Crossing  the,  277. 
Judgment  Day,  136,  189  seq.,  21 


Keats,  347. 
Killing,  16  seq. 


K. 


L. 


Lazarus,  The  death  of,  259. 

Life,  54,   82,   147    seq.,    155,   195,  207  seq., 

215,    219    seq.,    221    seq.,    24S  seq.,    264, 

273,  281  seq. 
Light  in  darkness,  270. 
Lincoln,  Abraham,  95  seq. 
Living  after  death,  161  seq.,  296. 
Locke,  John,  29. 
Loneliness  in  death,  1S2,  279. 
Louis  the  Great,  174  seq. 
Love,  Funeral  sermon  a  testimony  of,  334. 
Luther,  120. 

M. 
Martvn,  Henry,  60. 
Mason,  John,  56,  348. 
Melancthon,  347. 
Mexicans,  349  seq. 
Ministry,  Secret  of  a  successful,  268. 
Mishke,  Rev.  John,  348. 
Mohammedans,  349,  351. 
Morality,  56. 
Moses,  The  prophet,  94. 
Mother,   Death  of  a,  66  seq.,  158  seq.,  245 

seq. 
Mystery  of  Providence,  198. 

N. 
Nation,  God's  voice  to  the,  123  seq. 
Nature,  178,  204,  229,  232. 
Newport,  61. 
Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  29. 
Night,  No,  in  heaven,  239. 
Nobleman,  A  dying,  56,  57,  61,  348. 
Norseman,  349. 

O. 

Old  age,  Death  in,  305. 

Order  of  exercises  at  funerals,  338  seq. 

OweD,  John,  60, 


INDEX  OF  SUBJECTS. 


365 


P. 

Soul,  Funeral  of  the,  133  seq. 

Parents,  116  seq.,  235  seq.  ;  death  of, 

299. 

Sovereignty  of  God,  125  seq.,  198. 

Parker,  Theodore,  347. 

Steadfastness,  143. 

Parsees,  350. 

Submission,  104,  199. 

Party  strife,  128. 

Success,  210. 

Paulinus,  87. 

Sudden  death,  267,  303. 

Payson,  Edward,  60,  347. 

Support,  The  sure,  270. 

Personal  matters  in  funeral  addresses, 

333- 

Sympathy,  178. 

Peter,  the  Apostle,  89. 

T. 

Philip  III.,  King  of  Spain,  56,  348. 

Taylor,  Zachary,  347. 

Poems  for  quotation  and  reading,  355. 
Prayer  at  funerals,  292  seq.  ;  before  funer- 

Time, A,  to  die,  164  seq. 
Todas  of  India,  330. 

als,  337. 
Preparation   for   death,  219  seq.,  247  seq., 

Toplady.  Augustus  M.,  347. 
Transiency  of  life,  312. 

263,  277. 
Prime  of  life,  Death  in  the,  298. 

Turner,  204. 

U. 

Probation,  194  seq. 

Prominent  persons,  death  of,  30S. 

Undertakers,  Duties  of,  338  seq. 

Providence,  19S  seq.,  254. 

Unhappy  life,  End  of  a,  300. 

Punishment  by  parents,  116  seq. 

Unrepentant,  Death  of  the,  177,  299. 

Punishment,  Future,  48,  229. 

Unseen  world,  Nearness  of  the,  271. 

R. 

V. 

Recognition  in  heaven,  275,  276. 

Valley,  God  in  the,  271. 

Readings,  Scripture,  354. 

Vanderbilt,  Cornelius,  141  seq  ,  292  seq. 

Regret,  73  seq. 

Vanity,  209. 

Repentance,  178  ;  death-bed,  265. 

Vassar,  John,  168  seq. 

Responsibilities  of  the  living,  141,  seq. 

Victory  over  death,  186  seq.,  228  seq. 

Rest  of  God,  294  seq. 

Visiting  the  house  of  mourning,  338  seq. 

Resurrection,  47,  139,  185,  188  seq.,  212 

227, 

Voltaire,  54,  347. 

256,  271,  278. 

w. 

Revelation,  2rr,  223. 

Wales,  350. 

Review  of  life,  155  seq.,  168. 

War,  The  carnage  of,  356. 

Richter,  206. 

Washington,  George,  348. 

Righteous,  Death  of  the,  317. 

Waste  of  life,  772. 

Rivet,  Dr.,  348. 

Waugh,  A.  C.,  D.D.,  347. 

Romans,  350. 

Web  of  life,  268. 

Russians,  349. 

Webster,  Daniel,  207,  348. 

S. 

Wesley,  John,  347. 

Saladin  the  Great,  126. 

Wilcock,  Mrs.  Mary,  347- 

Salmasius,  55,  348. 

Worker,  Death  of  an  obscure,  298. 

Science,  201. 

Wrath,  Divine,  229. 

Seat,  The  empty,  275. 

-y. 

Separation,  Eternal,  no. 

Sepulchre,  The  new,  270. 

Years  fleeting,  The,  26c. 

Siberians,  350. 

Young,  Death  of  the,  304. 

Sins,  National,  129. 

Youth,  147. 

Slavery,  99  seq. 

Z. 

Sorrow,  102  seq.,  176  seq.,  223  seq.,  271 

ZlBGENBALGER,   59,  348. 

I  ■  T*^? 


